Author's Note: Whew, extremely late on this chapter… My apologies. Part of the reason for the delay was because I felt I needed a slight overhaul on everything. There's nothing significantly rewritten – it was mainly an attempt to trim some fat, make dialogue less stilted in places, and move some stuff from the narrator to character dialogue/internal monologue.

I think the first chapter endured the most change, but plot-relevant items weren't touched. Assuming you can remember what's happened to Vaughn and company after so long, there shouldn't be a need to re-read anything. Well, enough rambling for now…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Damnation

Corporal Alexei Volkov stood as if carved from stone, his rigid face squinting at the far tree line. He searched for the emergence of shapes. Devoid of trees, the clearing was lit by starlight – there wasn't much, but it was a welcome change from the kilometers of canopy-darkened forest. And yet, aside from a slight breeze that stirred the dark mass of foliage, there was nobody for Alexei to see.

"I'm sure he's fine," Nyla said from beside him. She sat on the ground, her legs stretched out as she changed her bandages.

Alexei grunted in response, prompting a sigh from the turian woman.

"Not very talkative are you?" Nyla pulled herself to her feet and hobbled beside him.

"We're in the middle of a mission. I don't need the distraction." Alexei found himself regretting the curt tone of his reply. It wasn't that he disliked Nyla, but he felt uneasy around the woman – around any of the alien crew. He always felt as if the wrong thing might slip out of his mouth. He felt no shame at having served in Cerberus, but even he had to admit that the organization had sometimes cultivated certain biases. "Vaughn's late," Alexei found himself adding in a softer tone.

"Well, we've only been here ninety minutes," Nyla said. "Even under ideal conditions he'd be a full thirty behind us. If he found Kiros injured, that'd delay him even more."

Alexei shook his head. "I've already tried raising him on the comm several times. Static." At this, they both went quiet.

After a minute of silence, Nyla spoke up again. "What about your tracker?" she suggested.

"Tracker?" Alexei frowned. "Only Kiros has-" He paused. Alexei had assumed that the salarian was dead, but something about his location could provide a clue. It was worth a try, at least. Alexei activated his omni-tool, waiting for the weak signal to resolve. Without any satellites or the Antietam's functioning repeater node, their distant shuttlecraft's weaker hardware was being used. A pinging white dot finally appeared on Alexei's display. He cursed.

"What is it?"

"Illyria," Alexei said in a low voice. "The signal is coming from the heart of Fletcher's territory."

Nyla grimaced. "Spirits..."

"So Kiros is alive," Alexei muttered. "Shuttlecraft is the only way he could've made it there that quick. And there's no point in transporting a corpse."

"Prisoner?" Nyla asked.

"Maybe." Alexei watched the flashing dot with a blank expression. He wondered if the night's events – including Vaughn's disappearance – were the result of some intricate betrayal. It was hard to believe, and yet… "You can't assume he's a traitor because he's an alien," Alexei reminded himself.

Regardless, this information didn't necessarily reveal anything about Vaughn. Vaughn's absence could mean that the major had been delayed while taking an indirect route to avoid capture. "But even if he was on the run, Vaughn still should've been able to send a brief message," Alexei thought. "He could be… no he's not dead. I won't believe that." This left Alexei with only one conclusion. There was little that was logical about this confidence, but Alexei trusted his gut feeling. He knew where he needed to go.

Before he could voice his thoughts, Alexei was interrupted by the sound of an incoming shuttle. The familiar frame of one of the Antietam's Kodiaks touched down in the small grassy field. Alexei noted that the once-pristine hull was scarred by small bullet marks, though the damage looked superficial. The doors retracted to reveal Ezelle and Ranid as the two stepped out to greet Nyla and Alexei.

"Trouble?" Nyla asked, pointing to the dents in the shuttle's hull.

"The camp has fallen," Ranid replied in a somber tone. "We made constant trips to ferry those that were too weak to make it to the caves on foot. But… an hour ago, just as we were extracting another group from the camp, enemy soldiers burst through the trees." He shook his head. "They were everywhere."

Ezelle gave a weary sigh. "We had some luck, at least. The trek northwest was safe. No ambushes on those of us who went to the caves on foot." She did her best to hide it, but it was obvious that the asari woman was tired. Nobody had gotten much sleep since the mission on Elysium had started, and a three-hour march through a vast stretch of dense forest didn't help.

"Where is Major Vaughn?" the quarian asked, glancing around for the team's commanding officer.

"Taken captive," Alexei ground out. "He and Kiros. Fletcher must have brought them to Illyria." He received a curious look from Nyla but after a second's consideration, the turian woman nodded her assent.

Ezelle closed her eyes, and her delicate features morphed into a pained expression. "So what do we do now?"

"After Vaughn, the chain of command isn't quite clear," Ranid commented. "Perhaps-"

"I'm taking command." Alexei folded his arms.

The group fell silent. The way Alexei saw it, there weren't many options. Ranid was competent, but he was clearly too timid. Ezelle was still young, and she had no experience leading missions like this. However… there was Nyla. She had been the leader of her cabal during the war, and so the turian woman was also a legitimate choice.

"But if Vaughn's in trouble, then I can't trust this to her," Alexei thought. "Only I can do this. If her damned turian arrogance-"

"That makes sense," Nyla regarded Alexei with a slight bow of her head. "What are your orders?"

Alexei bit back his surprise and felt the beginnings of guilt twist inside him. He forced himself to ignore it. "No matter how you look at it, there's only one thing for us to do. Vaughn and Kiros are in Illyria. The frigate we need to save the Antietam is also in Illyria."

"You mean we're going to stage an attack?" Private Joyce, the shuttle's pilot, appeared in the vehicle's open doorway. She looked apprehensive.

"Alexei has the right idea," Nyla said. "All our objectives are in once place. And attacking now is the best chance we have. Fletcher's soldiers are still here in the forest, meaning his defenses are at their weakest."

"Is the shuttle ready?" Alexei directed the question to Joyce.

"She took some light arms fire, but she's solid. Just point me where to go." Joyce looked just as tired as Ezelle; multiple extraction runs between the camp and the caves seemed to have also taken their toll. She then seemed to notice Alexei's inspection, for she immediately straightened and forced a smile to her lips. "I'm ready."

"How about you?" Alexei asked Nyla.

The turian took a few more steps around the clearing, testing the application of weight on her wounded leg. "The bullet passed through, and medi-gel's doing its job. I think I can manage, but I'll admit – I'm not at my best right now."

"Contact," Ranid spoke suddenly. His rifle snapped to his shoulder as he swiveled to the north end of the clearing. "Three shapes."

"Get us in the air," Alexei barked to Joyce. "Once we make visual confirmation, we'll use the shuttle's weapons. If they're Fletcher's, we can't afford letting them tell-"

"Wait!" Ezelle interrupted. "Look!"

One of the figures at the far end of the clearing was waving. The light of the moonless Elysium sky didn't provide much illumination, but the figure's waving hand was glowing blue with biotic energy.

The colorful shapes on Ranid's visor display shifted visibly. He leaned forward and astonishment sounded in his quiet voice. "It's the Matriarch Isara."

"I thought she didn't make it," Ezelle said with similar surprise. "When Fletcher's men started pouring into the camp, she refused to take up space on the shuttle."

"And so she ran here?" Alexei's brow furrowed.

As the three figures came closer, Alexei could make out Lady Isara and two of her batarian scouts. The corporal scowled as he recognized Krieg. The two batarians were panting, as they must have kept a sprinting pace the entire way from the camp to the clearing. Isara, on the other hand, looked completely composed and unaffected by the flight south. "Her biotics?" Alexei mused. "Either way, she's stronger than she looks..."

"I am fortunate that you are still here," Isara said as she halted several meters from the shuttle.

"We weren't expecting you," Alexei said. "Why are you here?"

"As soldiers closed in, I gave my remaining people the order to retreat. I knew many of Fletcher's men would pursue me and so I headed south – to draw them away from those who would try to flee toward the caves. I was aware of your plans to regroup here, and so I hurried, hoping I could make it in time."

Alexei reflexively swiveled toward the northern trees. "You drew them here?"

"They should still be some distance behind us. And they will need to proceed more carefully, given the traps my scouts have been setting. Of course, there is the possibility they might call for air support. Perhaps it would be prudent for us to depart?"

Within minutes, the eight of them had packed back into the shuttle and lifted off into the night sky. To the east, the first hints of dawn were transforming the world to a dull gray. As they ascended, Alexei explained the situation to Isara. She had the grace to look saddened at the news of Vaughn's capture.

"Take us south," Alexei ordered Joyce. "We'll take an indirect route to Illyria, just in case any of Lady Isara's pursuers are close enough to see the shuttle." He turned to the asari matriarch beside him. "There's no time to take you back to your people in the caves. Now's my best chance to strike, and I intend to take it."

Isara shared a look with her two batarian companions and nodded. "We will support you in this. Many more of my people would be dead if Vaughn had not given us use of this shuttle." She turned to Ezelle, regarding the younger asari with stern eyes. "I must ask: how many of my people made it to the caves this night?"

Ezelle shook her head sadly. She seemed to have trouble meeting the matriarch's gaze. "Less than two hundred and fifty. Maybe a few more, if some of your rear guard make it back."

A silent tremble of anger passed over Isara's face, but it soon passed. "The survivors will be safe with Cassandra," she spoke softly, her eyes closed.

Krieg barked a humorless chuckle. "Cass is gonna be pissed that she missed out on this."

"Sir?" Joyce called back to Alexei from the cockpit. "The Antietam's comm node has been flickering in and out of operation as they make repairs. They're down now, but I can make sure they receive a message."

"We took the liberty of sending one earlier, letting them know about the attack and the retreat to the caves," Ezelle chimed in.

Alexei paused. He remembered the slight tension between Vaughn and Harper regarding the expedition's leadership. If he reached out now, would she try and usurp command of the operation now that Vaughn was captured? "I can't afford that," he thought to himself. "That message you sent will be good enough," Alexei said. He turned to look at what was left of the squad. "It's just us down here. And we have a counterattack to plan."

Lieutenant Daniel Vaughn's world had been reduced to simple repetition. The actions were mindless, almost instinctive. There could be no hints of fear, and no time could be wasted on thoughts of tactics or strategy. His hands flew through the all-too-familiar motions: pulling the thermal clip's ejection trigger, slamming a fresh clip into the rifle's chamber, and then snapping the loaded weapon back to his shoulder. Muscles tensed, the weapon quivered, and bullets pierced the air. Before long, it was time for the process to repeat.

And then the return fire came. A deafening sound like the braying of a thousand horns drowned out all other noise. The world's color seemed to follow – washed away, leaving only red. Scorching waves of air crashed over Vaughn. Each time it happened, he expected everything to then fade to black. Yet, thankfully, the sensory overload abated and the world returned to him. Vaughn didn't even look to see where the attack had wrought its destruction – it hadn't hit him, and that was all that mattered. He just kept firing at the Reaper Destroyer looming above him.

"My God… have they always been this big?"

There was nothing clever about what needed to be done. He and the others had spread out, reducing the effectiveness of the lethal streaks of crimson light. All they could do then was keep firing and stall for time, keeping the Reaper in place. It was best to try and forget that they were being picked off one by one. The scraggly, barren trees surrounding Glen Alpine provided no cover against a weapon of such terrible slaughter, and so Vaughn just stood in the open as he desperately fired his weapon.

"What's taking them so long?"

Vaughn knew he was one of the few still left alive. Though he tried to push all thoughts from his mind, the first pangs of guilt and horror began to loom just beneath the surface. But if they didn't do this, what hope was there? If they couldn't kill one – just one of those things, what could they possibly do in this war?

"Firing sequence initiated." The welcome sound crackled over Vaughn's half-broken earpiece. At first, he couldn't see anything. But then the space around the Reaper seemed to distort and waver, like the air above pavement on a hot summer's day. A rumbling came. However, it was louder than expected and strangely, it wasn't sounding from the Reaper's direction.

Vaughn's relief drained away, replaced by a growing realization that something was amiss. The rumbling intensified. "Turn it off!" Vaughn barked into his communicator. "Something's wrong, turn it off!"

And then Vaughn looked up. It should have been difficult to tell, yet the dread that now suffocated him made him sure. A single, blood-red robotic eye stared at him… throughhim. He was the Reaper's next target.

"Turn it off…" This time, Vaughn's voice sounded as nothing more than a mumble. The act brought pain, its discomfort waking him. Vaughn's chest was agonizingly sore, and the unconscious mumbling – hell, even the act of breathing – was enough to make him wince.

Worse yet, as he stirred into consciousness, the throbbing mass of agony that was his right shoulder forced a pained hiss from between Vaughn's clenched teeth.

"My shoulder… surely my rifle's kick wasn't that bad…" As his eyes fluttered open, reality flooded back. He wasn't a lieutenant of the Systems Alliance. Not anymore. He was now a major of the Council Naval Forces, and the Reapers were long dead. Glen Alpine… was a thing of the past.

Vaughn remembered his sundered armor and the explosion of shrapnel caused by Grall's biotic warping attack. He then recalled his own grenade's explosion and the blackness that followed. As his senses returned to him, Vaughn realized that he had been placed into a chair. Movement gave birth to a new pain: a sharp sensation in his neck that caused something wet to drip onto his chest.

"I wouldn't move too much if I were you. It didn't seem like the guy who stitched up your neck knew what he was doing." It was Kiros' voice; the familiar scornful tone made the corners of Vaughn's mouth twitch upward in relief.

Vaughn tried to feel at his neck, but his hands didn't get far. They felt heavy, and he could hear the clinking of metal links.

"Awfully low tech, isn't it?" Kiros asked, tugging at his own chains. "If it weren't for our little predicament, I'd almost find this amusing."

Vaughn examined his surroundings. He and Kiros were in an empty, dingy room. Both men were chained to a wall opposite from the room's only door, though only Vaughn had been given a chair. Vaughn looked down to see that both of his wrists were manacled, and a single chain connected the two restraints. The chain itself ran behind him, through a spike embedded in the wall. Kiros was similarly trapped.

Vaughn's mind trudged through a haze as he struggled to remember his final moments of consciousness. "My neck… Grall's axe was at my throat right before the explosion. I guess I'm lucky it didn't slash open an artery when the both of us fell." He instinctively started to shake his head, but the surge of pain made him stop. He glanced toward Kiros. "Are you okay?"

"Better than you from the looks of it." Kiros shrugged. "Stomach feels mostly healed, and whatever cranial trauma Grall gave me has been reduced to a dull pounding. But I can feel my medical nanobots just starting to wear off… indicates the two of us were out for somewhere around three hours, I think. Feels like they may have sedated us."

"Three hours. It means Lady Isara's people should've made it to the caves by now – those of them that survived, anyway," Vaughn said thoughtfully.

"So what were you mumbling about a second ago?" Kiros asked. "Turn what off?"

Vaughn silently cursed to himself. "Nothing important," he said in a feigned casual tone.

"You know, I hear nightmares about the war are common. Apparently, lots of people have them," Kiros offered.

"That include you?"

Kiros snorted. "Of course not. I'm well-adjusted, thank you very much." A grin crept onto the salarian's face.

Vaughn sighed, and the dream's memory allowed a sense of self-loathing to slither into his mind. "I told Councilor Osule that I had learned from Glen Alpine… that I wouldn't underestimate an enemy. So much for that..." Vaughn ground his teeth, but he caught himself from devolving further into self-pity. He was still in command, after all. "We need to talk about your actions at the clearing." Vaughn watched with a measure of satisfaction as the arrogant grin melted from Kiros' face.

"You want to talk about that now?"

"I do and we will. You have somewhere else you need to be?" Vaughn jerked his head toward the spikes that kept their chains secured to the wall.

Kiros scoffed. "I saved Cass' life and you know it. If I hadn't been in place, she'd be dead – there's no way the rest of you would've reacted in time."

"And if I gave the order to shoot first? You could have easily been hit by friendly fire. If you have something planned, I'll gladly accept tactical input. However, these decisions are ultimately made by me. Is that clear?"

Kiros considered this for a heartbeat and then nodded silently.

Vaughn held his stern gaze a moment longer before allowing his expression to soften. "Satisfy my curiosity – what made you intervene like that?"

Kiros shrugged. "It's what we were going to do anyway. I knew you weren't going to let some girl get executed right in front of you. But I also knew you were going to try and talk things out first. It made sense that I be in position… just in case."

"You've done your research on me," Vaughn said after a moment's pause. "Was that normal due diligence or were you reading up on the competition for the Spectre position?"

"A little bit of both, I suppose." Kiros grunted a brief chuckle.

"So are you and I going to have a problem?"

"That depends on you," Kiros said as he stretched his arms, eliciting a soft jingling noise from his chains. "Am I going to sabotage you or something? No. But if you screw up on your own and lose your spot here, I will snatch it up." The smile returned to the salarian's face. "Fair warning."

Footsteps sounded from outside the room, abruptly stopping all conversation. Vaughn started to pull on his chains – quietly drawing them taut before applying all the force his muscles could muster. The spike embedded in the wall refused to budge.

"You're awake," Colonel Elias Fletcher said with a note of surprise. He stepped briskly into the room, followed by two armed guards. "The fact that you're even alive after facing Grall is impressive. I guess the stories they tell about N7s are true." The man gave Vaughn a friendly smile.

Vaughn ignored the proffered smile. He also resisted the impossible urge to burst from the chair and pummel the man, instead glancing at Fletcher's two escorts. One of them was familiar – it took Vaughn a moment, but he soon recognized him as the prisoner they had released from Isara's camp.

"I understand you and Private Marcus have met before," Fletcher said as he saw where Vaughn was looking. "The two of you are lucky he was among those who found you. He made sure you both were brought back to Illyria."

"Lucky for you as well," Vaughn retorted. "Let me guess – not too many of your people know who I am or why I'm here. Most don't know how pointless this violence really is."

Fletcher stiffened. "I'm not the only one who has suffered from Isara's barbarism. Private Marcus lost his brother three years ago."

"He wasn't even a soldier," Marcus snarled. "Just part of a woodcutter team. Isara targeted them specifically, sneaking her skirmishers around our vanguard. By the time we realized… I didn't even recognize him at first. He was shot in the back of the head and his face… his face was…" Marcus shuddered and fell silent.

"I am sorry for your loss," Vaughn said. "But that doesn't excuse what you're doing now. How many of your own people did you sacrifice tonight? And how many of them were aware that in a few days' time all this would be over?"

"It's not a decision we make lightly," Fletcher responded, his words heavy with finality. "But there is no other way to ensure that justice will be done. We know that when this is over, we'll be held responsible for what happened here. We know how the last seven years will look to the rest of the galaxy. They'll see us as xenophobic monsters, and Isara will be hailed as some kind of saint. As for what happens today? Well, we're already damned anyway."

"When people look at humanity they remember Shepard, but they also remember Cerberus," Vaughn reflected. Fletcher's interpretation was probably an easy one for people to swallow, and Vaughn honestly couldn't say that the colonel's prediction was wrong. Then he stopped, for something about Fletcher's wording stood out to him. "He said 'for what happens today'. For what will happen. It's morning now – this isn't over." Vaughn remembered his own initial confusion at the nighttime assault, and the fact that it felt more like a push than a finishing blow. Then everything clicked.

"You wanted them to retreat to the caves," Vaughn said, his eyes looking to Fletcher in horror. "I had thought the AA guns were taken out in order to allow you to freely execute strafing runs. But those never came."

"That would be a messy, imprecise way to end things." Fletcher's solemn words answered him. "It would scatter them into the forest. And if I simply just used ground troops to encircle them, my losses would've been even greater. Too risky as well – there was the possibility that Isara could've rallied her forces to punch through our lines and escape."

"What's he talking about?" Kiros spoke up, looking unsure.

"He was clearing the way for his frigate," Vaughn said, still watching the colonel who now avoided his gaze. "The drones make it too difficult for him to do anything in orbit, and the AA guns forced the ship to keep its distance. For seven years, that frigate's just been used as a helium-3 courier for Illyria's fusion generator. But it's also the only the only thing on this planet with enough firepower to collapse a network of caves."

"It'll only take a few well-placed kinetic rounds," Fletcher added. "Simpler than trying to firebomb an area of forest, and it'll be far enough away from Illyria that I won't need to worry about risking my own people." He sighed. "I've thought about this for years. I thought nature and time would take care of my problem, but then you arrived. I only have this brief window to settle accounts…"

"You'll kill hundreds of people!" Vaughn's voice peaked with anger. "After you do this, there's no chance the Council will-"

"It's like the colonel said," Marcus interrupted. "We're damned anyway. We won't escape punishment, but neither will they."

"Major Vaughn, you accused me of misleading my people in order to bring about this assault." Fletcher's words now rang with more confidence, as if given backbone by Marcus' declaration. "And you're right. But I also did that to protect them. I've given them plausible deniability; only a few us will suffer the burden of consequence."

"You can't do this! Think, dammit!" Vaughn shouted, and in a brief burst of rage, he savagely pulled at his chains. The spike sat motionless, despite his fury.

Fletcher shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Major Vaughn."

"What do you intend to do with us?" Kiros asked. Whereas Vaughn's face flushed with anger, Kiros' dark green skin had paled noticeably.

"You will stay here," Fletcher said. "You are not my enemy. In fact, after all this, I still intend to help you. Soon the SSV Verdun will finish its task. Then, I shall give you the power couplings you require. You will be able to save the Antietam."

Vaughn said nothing. He felt drained. Hollow.

Fletcher turned away from his two prisoners and proceeded to the door. One of his guards followed him, though Marcus lagged behind – evidently staying to guard Vaughn and Kiros. As Fletcher was about to pass through the doorway, he halted. He half-turned to look at Vaughn. "I can tell you're a good man, Major Vaughn. If there's one piece of wisdom I can offer you, it's this: be careful when it comes to mercy. It was difficult to drive away Isara and her people all those years ago, but I should have known it would bring trouble. Damned half-measures… I should have killed them all right then. Think of how much pain we could have avoided…" And with that, Fletcher was gone.