Star Wars is owned by Lucas Arts Ltd and Disney. Mass Effect is owned by EA and BioWare.

hunter 139 - As hilarious as that would be, not even Sparatus will be able to deny what happens next.
blazenite 104 - Both are certainly a possibility.
Old one Griffin - Thank you, also I love writing The Wrath so we'll see more of him soon.
Barrour - The SWTOR Bounty Hunter will make an appearance eventually, don't want to give away when though.
muratira - Every army has its share of sniveling incompetents and cowards unfortunately. Reverse engineering is a possibility, but I doubt it would help. After all, the Republic had energy weapons as well, and they're all dead.
Drygen - Which is why they'll need some help. *Wink*
fresh prince1 - Thanks!
RabidArmenian - No problem, I enjoy interacting with my readers.
Terlander - It's less the Empire, and more Cipher Nine's personality in this story. I'll expand on it a more later in the story, but this Cipher Nine is the type who will avoid collateral casualties when possible.
Cyricist001 - That's fair criticism, but I attribute that more to how my Cipher Nine operates, which I explain above.
Guest - Thanks!

Half exposition, half lots of Turians dying. For those of you wondering why none of the Normandy team died when encountering Cipher Nine, my Cipher Nine is more "light side" than most Imperials. If able to get the job done without unnecessary casualties, he will do so. I hinted at this through his use of non-lethal weaponry such as cryo grenades.

Mass Effect: Shadow of the Sith

Chapter 8 – Tragedy on Tuchanka, Part 1

Two days before the capture of the Imperial soldier: Captain Tyco.

On the first day of the battle that would historically become known as: The Tragedy of Tuchanka, gathered forces of the Turian Hierarchy's 141st legion and their escort, the 9th fleet, were in high spirits.

All were unaware of the hell that awaited them...

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Dreadnought - Steadfast - Bridge

Admiral Kivara Regirus, like most members of the Hierarchy's military, was a creature of discipline and routine. She had gone through her morning as she did every morning, with efficiency and strict timing. She had woken at exactly 0600 hours, ship time. Performed her usual aerobic workout in the gym reserved for officers. Reviewed her schedule over a cup of black coffee and a breakfast tailored to optimal nutritional needs, in her quarters. Then assumed her post on the bridge at exactly 0700 hours.

Just like every other day.

But today was not like every other day.

On every other day the 9th fleet would be patrolling the boarders of the Terminus for pirates or the increased activity of warlord Thog Kay'tor. But today, the 9th fleet moved towards Tuchanka, home world of the Krogan species. As Kivara stood on the bridge of the Steadfast, she stared intensely at the distant planet slowly growing in the forward viewport, and could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of history as she looked upon its surface, which was a mix of sickly browns.

A long time ago her people had come to this world to save the galaxy from these barbarians. The peace that had followed after had lasted for over a thousand years. Now these savages were once again rising up to threaten that peace.

"We'll just have to beat them down harder this time," Kivara whispered to herself.

The door to the bridge slid open with a hiss behind her. She turned towards it and saw her partner in this crusade: General Castius Vakarian.

"General Vakarian," Kivara' voice was loud and held unquestionable authority. "I was just admiring our theatre of war. How fare the preparation of your men?"

"My men are eager and ready Admiral Regirus." The general's voice was heavy with experience.

"Good. Subduing the Krogan today will not be as difficult as it was for our predecessors. But we should still be prepared. After all, a cornered varren is a dangerous varren."

"Especially when that varren is armed with shotguns and automatic rifles," Castius quipped.

Kivara rolled her eyes. The general had a tendency to slide in 'witty' comments from time to time. It was irritating, but Kivara allowed it due to the fact that Castius had the ear of the Primarch himself. It would not do to insult someone with the favor of the Hierarchy's leadership.

"When can we expect to arrive?" he asked.

"In just a little under 5 hours."

"So quickly?"

"The Krogan have no navy to speak of, so we will not waste time with sending out scouts. We will simply move in and deploy the fleet as we see fit."

"Hm, very good," said Castius, "it will be a nice change to not worry how many of our soldiers will make it to the surface."

"We can thank Commander Shepard for that as well. Apparently while he was here, he disabled their only anti-aircraft weapon."

Castius grunted again. Kivara noted that he seemed to not want to talk about the human. Perhaps like her, the general did not care for the human species. Kivara had fought in the Relay 314 incident, she had just been a lieutenant then. She still had scars obtained from fighting off a squad of humans that had boarded the ship she had been serving on at the time.

In the far right corner of the Steadfast's forward viewport, Kivara noted the one ship in her fleet not of Turian make. Like all Asari made ships, the Joining Tide was smooth, pleasant to look at, and vaguely reminded Kivara of a sea creature.

"What of the ambassadors?" she asked, gesturing to the Joining Tide with her chin.

"Still debating on what the best way to approach the Krogan will be. Irissa thinks she can seduce the entire species by wearing a pretty dress and batting her eyelashes. Esheel thinks we should bombard them from orbit. Quentius wants to send them a message first and wait for them to reply. And Udina is just trying to keep every amicable."

Kivara shook her head. "Politicians."

"Politicians," agreed Castius.

Both Turians saw the ambassadors for what they were: a show. The four politicians were here so that the Council could claim that they had indeed tried to make peace. When the Krogan inevitably fired the first shot, the real mission would begin, and that would be where the 9th fleet and 141st legion could step in.

"This will be a day long remembered," she said, returning her gaze to the slowly growing Tuchanka. "Our children's children will know of this day."

Castius gave an unenthusiastic grunt. Obviously he didn't much care whether what happened next would be remembered. That was fine with Kivara. In her opinion he had gained plenty of glory already and ought to move aside to let someone else have a turn.

Kivara' career was an exemplary one, she would not be Admiral of the 9th fleet if it were not. But she had long hoped to be given the chance for something greater, to earn her place in the annals of Turian history. This mission would provide her with that. Years from now, the academies of Palevan would teach lessons of her part in beating down that race of barbarians.

Today was not like any other day she had ever lived.

Today, she became a legend.

All she had to do was wait another 5 hours.

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Frigate - Val'Talon - Mess Hall

"You should call her."

Sergeant Tiberius did his best not to show his irritation. As his immediate superior, Tiberius had the upmost respect for Lieutenant Naevra, but sometimes she showed her age and got a little too meddlesome in the personal affairs of her subordinates.

He had come to the mess hall because he was hungry. He'd been sloppy in not noticing that she was here as well. Now he had been pulled into one of her dreaded 'conversations', where she tried to get to know him better. When she had sat down across from him, he had nearly made up some false excuse for not sticking around. But as always, somehow she managed to keep him in his seat.

"I think it would be a real nice thing for you to do," she continued.

"Nah," he replied, scratching at his neck. "It wouldn't do any good."

Naevra rolled her eyes. "You sound like my father. He didn't like calling my mother and I before he was deployed either."

"Then he was smart. Calling them just makes you think about them more. Then when you're on the ground, all you can think about is what's going to happen if you don't make it. A soldier doesn't need that kind of distraction, especially not on the battlefield."

"But she's your daughter," Naevra protested.

Tiberius stuck a mouthful of food into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He tried to remember how the lieutenant had even come to know about his daughter. Likely the same way she learned how his favorite food was fish, and he had wanted to be a superhero as a child: through conversation. It was an odd and dangerous ability she had, somehow making people spew out random facts about themselves as though privacy meant nothing.

"She doesn't want to talk to me," he finally grumbled.

"Every daughter wants to talk to their father."

"Not Falia. She's an Asari. She'll be here long after I'm dead and buried. I'm just a blink for her, less really, considering how old I am."

"Just cause she's not Turian doesn't mean she doesn't want a hello every now and then from her daddy."

"I'm not going to be around much longer. It's best she learn that now," he tried, but his heart wasn't really in it. He looked up from his food and saw the lieutenant, staring at him skeptically with her kind youthful eyes.

"Alright," she said, "I won't force you to. But I just think you should know, it would make her happy." The lieutenant picked up her tray of half finished food. "I think I would have been a happier kid, if my dad would have just given me a call every once in a while."

She left, leaving Tiberius alone with his thoughts. He picked at his food, no longer hungry. A thought crossed his mind. Checking to make sure there was no one around to catch him in the act, Tiberius brought up his Omni-tool, and from it her produced a holographic picture.

In the picture were two Asari. One was older and beautiful, her name was Chrisana, a Matriach he had met while on leave. Their encounter had been little more than several drinks and a few passionate nights in a hotel. The second Asari in the picture was a direct result of those passionate nights. She was still young, a toddler really. Her name was Falia.

He hadn't married Chrisana when Falia had been born. He hadn't even known about his daughter till about 2 years ago when he had just so happened to bump into them on the Citadel.

It had been a big surprise to say the least.

He had visited and talked with both of them rather infrequently since then. He told himself that he didn't have the time, that his work was getting in the way. That was a lie of course. He was just afraid of commitment, of getting attached to Falia. He hadn't been lying about his age. He wasn't a young Turian anymore, he wouldn't be around for much longer.

Tiberius thought back to the lieutenant's words: "you should call her." He wanted to. But should he?

He checked the time on his Omni-tool.

4 more hours till landfall, before he had to make his decision.

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Carrier - Resolute - Hangar

Lieutenant Tanidos sat back in the seat of his A-61 Mantis gunship, naked. Sitting in his lap, also naked, was Lieutenant Pilra. She was his lover and his copilot for the gunship. In the navy, it was generally considered a good idea to develop a friendship with the Turian that would be helping you fly. Tanidos and Pilra had started as good friends. As time had gone on, they became more.

Fraternization was again regulations, and for a time the two resisted their attraction to one another. At one point, Tanidos had even thought about asking for a transfer. But in the end, the two had given into their desire, and thus began their secret relationship.

"We should get dressed," said Pilra as she traced small circles into his chest.

"Let's just wait a little longer," he begged.

"We can't," she began to move off of him. "We'll be called to duty soon. I don't know about you, but I don't find the idea of flying into battle naked very appealing."

Tandio wrapped his arms around her slender waist and pulled her back. "Just a little longer."

She put up a strong resistance at first, but then their eyes met, and she melted back against him. Both let out a satisfied sigh as their bodies touched.

"You're hopeless," she whispered.

"I know," he replied, drawing a talon down her spine. She shivered at his electrifying touch, then reached up to pull him into a deep kiss. Slowly the two descended deeper into their passion.

Tanidos loved it. When he was with Pilra, everything else simply seemed to fade away. He forgot that they were on a ship with hundreds of other Turians. He forgot that their relationship was forbidden and punishable. He forgot that in the upcoming battle, both or either of them could die.

He just forgot, and let himself feel.

A loud knock against the gunship's windshield startled the two lovers. They immediately broke their embrace, forgetting for a moment that the glass was tinted, and that no one outside could see into the cockpit.

"Hey! You two love birds making love in there?" asked a voice.

Pilra sighed with frustration. "Spirits damn you Jurin Phomis! You nearly gave me a damned heart attack!"

"I bet that's not the only kind of attacking going on in there." Jurin Phomis was one of the few Turians in the 9th fleet, that the couple trusted with their secret. In return for their trust, Jurin made sure to tease them about their relationship every chance he got.

"Do you want something Jurin?" Tanidos did little to mask his impatience. Jurin was a good friend, but he could the galaxy's worst cockblocker sometimes.

"Just wanted to remind you to keep an eye on the time. Their gonna be telling us to mobilize soon."

"How soon?" asked Pilra.

"3 hours. Remember to put on your clothes."

After Jurin had left, Pilra stared up Tanidos with a look that said 'I told you so'. Normally it terrified him to be on the receiving end of that glare. But since she was naked and in his arms, he found it kind of cute.

"What?" she demanded.

He smiled.

"We can get a lot done in just 3 hours."

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Cruiser - Solivar - Cargo Bay

"So...you've probably seen a lot of action, right?"

"Yup."

"Have you ever killed any Krogan."

"Uh huh."

"Great! That's...great." Apus Kilus silently cursed himself. He was trying really, really, REALLY, hard not to fulfill the bumbling young new guy stereotype. But he was failing, horrendously. The young private had been spending the last 10 minutes attempting to start a conversation with Sergeant Hyber.

The Sergeant looked like something off of a recruiting poster. Tall, large, grizzled, and with plenty of scars decorating his plates. Apus had hoped to get to know him a bit better. But so far the Sergeant had deigned to only reply to his questions with curt one word responses. Apus couldn't tell if that meant the Sergeant was annoyed or just didn't care. Maybe both?

"Hey Kilus!" Corporal Raliv called. "Get over here! Need your help with something."

"Coming sir!" Apus nearly hugged Raliv. But stopped himself, and instead saluted by thumping a fist to his chest. "What do you need sir?"

Raliv chuckled. "Not a thing private. But it looked like you were about to eat your gun if you sat next to the sarge any longer."

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to-"

"Nah it's alright," Raliv's tone was assuring. "Don't take it personally. Sergeant Hyber is like that with everyone. He'll shout a hole through your head on the battlefield, but off of it, he barely makes a peep."

"I see." Apus did not, but he didn't want to look stupid.

"Tell you what. If you need something to do, why don't you go down to the quartermaster and requisition some more Omni-gel clips for your tool."

"But I already have the standard amount sir," Apus protested, and kicked himself for doing so.

Thankfully Raliv kept smiling. "I understand that. But when you get into a shoot match, gel can disappear real quick, understand? Better to have too much extra than not enough."

"But what if the quartermaster doesn't give me more sir?"

"Just tell him that I sent you. He'll understand."

"Okay, should I go now sir?"

Raliv chuckled warmly. "Only if you think you can make it in 2 hours."

The joke went completely over Apus' head. "Yes sir! At once sir!"

2 hours, he repeated to himself. He would make it half way across the ship before he realized how long that was.

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Cruiser - Julivan

Halin had tried to hold off, he really had. But the hammering in his head just wouldn't stop. The boring briefing being led by Captain Ruvon, or as Halin knew him: Captain Rules, didn't help either. Halin hated Ruvon. Not just because the guy was a by-the-book rule sniffer, or just because he wasn't a cabal. No, Halin hate Ruvon because he was the "leash".

The Turian military was prejudiced against biotics. As a result, biotics were grouped together in a division separate from the usual rank and file. They even kept all biotics on a separate ship, away from the normal soldiers.

In his 5 years of service, Halin had never met a Cabal that had achieved a rank higher than lieutenant. As a result, all cabal platoons were commanded by a non-biotic, or a "leash". A 'leash' made sure the sneaky biotics didn't get out of control, and Ruvon had a hold tight enough to make Halin choke.

When the briefing was over, Halin nearly let out a cry of joy. Walking as fast as he could without looking desperate, he made his way back to his quarters and pulled out his personal locker from underneath his bunk. He undid the lock and opened it, revealing all the material possessions he owned.

There were a few cheap ship models, a dozen or so Fornax porn magazines, a bottle of dextro-whiskey, and a set of civilian clothes for shore leave. He pushed that all aside to reveal a small box at the very bottom of the locker. Halin took a quick look around to make sure no one would see, then took it out.

"Hello beautiful."

He opened it, revealing several silver tubes and a clear packet containing blue translucent circular tablets. Halin carefully took pulled out one of the silver tubes and two of the tablets. He unscrewed the top of the sliver tube, held it up to his nostril, and inhaled deeply.

"Oh yeah," his whispers reflected the intense sensations he was feeling. "That's the stuff."

It used to be that Halin took red sand because it made him a better biotic. It still did, but it also let him forget all about his problems, particularly Captain Rules and the fact that soon he would be thrown in a warzone. It didn't matter what they'd been told at the briefing. Halin knew that Krogan were no better than animals.

You didn't negotiate with a rabid animal, you put them down.

Halin shook the thoughts from his head. Now wasn't the time to be thinking, now was the time to just relax. He popped the two tablets into his mouth and felt them melt. He had learned long ago that Hallex was a great chaser for Red Sand. Alone, both induced euphoria. Taken together, Halin could reach new heights of sensations.

Now all he was missing was a woman. Sex when taking a hit was amazing.

"Hey," he heard a pleasant voice call.

Halin looked up to see a pretty female looking down at him. Her name was Sura, she kept looking at him expectantly.

"You gonna share or what?" she asked. Even in his drugged out state, Halin noticed her scratch at her neck and shift her weight from foot to foot. Uneasiness and itchy plates were both early signs of withdrawal.

Halin gave her a smile bigger than intended. "Well hey there, I was just thinking about you and that nice warm mouth of yours."

Sura scowled, which made him chuckle.

"Can't you just let me skip that step this time? It's been a while and I really need some," her voice, though even, had a tinge of desperation.

"Sure, as long as you've got the creds."

Sura snorted. "Please, with the amount we make in this shit outfit?"

"Then I guess you're gonna have to use your mouth." Halin leaned back against his bunk and placed his talons behind his head expectantly.

"You're an asshole," she spat, even as she started to kneel between his legs.

"Mmmhmmm, whatever, just get to work before I lose my high." Halin checked the time and giggled stupidly to himself.

He had a full 1 hour to simply enjoy.

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Stealth Corvette - Shadow Claw - Cargo Bay

Captain Sitora Falari pulled the slide of her Ventis back and released it, resulting in a satisfying clack.

"AP," her stern voice commanded. Immediately grey holographic glyphs appeared on the side of her heavy pistol, indicating it would now fire armor piercing rounds.

"Incendiary." The glyphs turned red.

"Disruptor." Now blue.

"Cryo." White.

"Shredder." Green.

"Hi-Ex." Yellow.

"Regular." The glyphs disappeared.

Satisfied that her prized pistol was in working condition, she clamped it to her armored thigh and then moved to her primary weapon. While a Ventis was the official sidearm of all Black Watch operatives, it could also be gifted to distinguished officers and individuals. The Kestar-17 on the other hand was a weapon reserved only for Black Watch, partially because the experimental technology it used meant a limited supply was available.

The Kestar-17 had been designed, just after The Battle of The Citadel, to be the perfect weapon for Hierarchy special forces. All modern weapons had the ability to collapse into a more compact form so that it would be easier for the owner to hold. The Kestar took that ability and expanded on it further, both metaphorically and literally.

Sitora held her personal Kestar. It resembled a Phaeston rifle in many ways, which Sitora found she appreciated on an asthetic level. But the Kestar was painted black and was much sleeker than the standard rifle of the Hierarchy's military forces.

She wrapped her talons around the rifle's grip, and it immediately unfolded itself in preparation for combat. At the moment, it was nothing more than an extremely well made assault rifle.

Then she tapped on a green Omni-panel on the weapon's side. The rifle's barrel shortened itself and widened, converting the assault rifle into an combat shotgun.

Sitora aimed her new weapon at several imaginary Krogan, and visualized blowing them apart.

She dropped into a low crouch and tapped the weapon's Omni-panel again. This time her weapon's systems extended the barrel. Sitora now held a light sniper rifle. She placed her eye to the now enlarged scope, and imagined what it would be like to see Urdnot Wreav's ugly face on the other end.

Luckily, she would not have to wait for long. Her squad's mission after all, was to eliminate the Krogan leadership.

"Cut off the head, and the body will die." General Vakarian's words echoed in her memory.

"Having fun?" a gravely voice pulled Sitora from her thoughts. She took her eye off of her weapon's scope and looked to her left.

"Cairus," she greeted the tall, slightly skinny, male Turian with a nod. His smiling face was decorated with the same black and white paint scheme as her own.

"Ever since we were little, you've playing soldier," he chuckled.

"I am a soldier," she replied.

Her brother grunted in agreement. It was uncommon, but not unheard of for family members to serve in the same units. Between the two of them, she was the elder of the pair by a year, and she was his senior officer by one rank. Still, Sitora would be lying if it didn't sometimes feel like Cairus was the older one. Sitora strongly suspected that Cairus had requested serving in the same squad when they had both been selected for Black Watch, in order to keep an eye on her.

"You know I was in the mess earlier, and I head one of the crew talking about how he'd love to 'claw your chest plates'." Cairus held up two talons on each hand in air quotes, a human gesture that he'd picked up some time in the past.

"And?" she asked.

"I confronted him, and he had an accident."

"Lieutenant Cairus Falari, violence between Hierarchy soldiers is punishable by-"

"I mean he soiled himself," Cairus held up his hands. "Spirits sister! What kind of savage do you take me for?"

Sitora shook her head and forced herself to frown disapprovingly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"What am I going to do with you?" Cairus shot back playfully. "You were supposed to be ready an hour ago. Did you even read my briefing notes?"

She shrugged. "I skimmed them."

Cairus sighed and put his hands on his waist. "And you're supposed to be the elder."

"I am the elder, and I've got the rank to prove it."

"Well, we'll see-"

The voice of Admiral Regirus came over the speakers. "This is Admiral Regirus. The fleet will reach Tuchanka in 30 minutes. I repeat, we are 30 minutes out. All ships are to assume combat readiness!"

Hierarchy 9th Fleet

Aboard the diplomatic vessel Joining Tide...

"There it is," said the Asari Spectre, Tela Vasir.

"Pretty as a pile of shit."

Tela cocked a questioning brow at the lavender skinned Asari at her side. "Wasn't your last husband a Krogan?"

"Yeah, and he was ugly as shit too."

"If he was ugly, why'd you marry him?" asked Tela.

"He had a big dick, sort of evened everything thing out."

Tela chuckled at friend's dry sense of humor. A matriarch well into her 8th century, Matriarch Edaria reminded Tela quite a bit of another Matriarch she had known, one with an equally dry sense of humor. It was a shame, in Tela's opinion, that Matriarch Aethya had retired from being a commando to be a bartender on Illium.

But the life of a huntress was not for everyone. Though she had been a Spectre for nearly three centuries now, Tela wondered if she would ever tire of it.

There were times when she thought she very well might. But then, shit like this happened.

Never had she thought the Krogan would try to launch another Goddess damned rebellion. Yet here she was on the Joining Tide, playing bodyguard to the Council's ambassadors, in hopes that this time around they could stop the Krogan before they started.

Officially, the Council had dispatched the Hierarchy's 9th Fleet to escort the Joining Tide and its ambassadors for a diplomatic mission. Unofficially, it was almost a certainty that the Krogan would shoot the minute they saw a single Turian, Asari, Salarian, or Human.

Which was why in addition to the 100 ships of the 9th Fleet, the Hierarchy's 141st Legion had also been sent in to help "keep the peace" on Tuchanka. The Krogan people were a tough and hardy race of sentients, who were no strangers to fighting. But Tela doubted the fractured and selfish clans and warbands of Tuchanka could match the iron discipline of thirty thousand trained Turian soldiers, with mobile armor and air support.

"Captain, we're receiving a transmission from the Steadfast," said one of the bridge officers.

"Patch them through," ordered Edaria.

"Matriach Edaria," Admiral Regirus' voice came over the speakers.

"I'm here admiral, the Joining Tide stands ready to carry out the Council's mission." In a blink, Edaria went from joker to Captain of the Joining Tide.

"Excellent, and what of the ambassadors?"

"Still prepping for the talks."

Tela heard a hushed sigh through the speaker. "Understood, tell them that we're beginning to establish our forward operating base on the surface. It should take just a couple hours. Once we've secured a safe perimeter, they will be contacted by General Vakarian on Tuchanka."

"Understood Admiral Regirus. I will convey your message to the ambassadors. Joining Tide out."

The channel went silent. Edaria turned to Tela expectantly.

"What?" she asked.

"You're the Spectre. You deliver the message."

Tela sighed dramatically. "Fine, but you owe me a drink."

Tuchanka - The Hollows

There was little enjoyment in The Wrath's life. His destiny had demanded that he forsake personal pursuits and enjoyments in favor of the greater good. But every now and then, he was allowed to indulge in small moments of peace and quiet. Moments where he did not need to think about how he would serve his master next, or of the next mission he'd be sent on.

In these moments he was allowed to simply, be.

Standing alone on the roof of Vaul's Eye, the fortress of the Krogan's sacred city, he was granted a stunning view of The Hollows. He had been told by Wreav, that The Hollows were the closest thing the Krogan had to a holy city. Even after the Genophage and subsequent collapse of the Krogan civilization, none of the warring clans had dared to try to claim The Hollows. To do so was to invite the wrath of all of Tuchanka.

But now that Wreav was the new ruler of Tuchanka, he had said that it was only fitting that he and his clan be allowed to move into Tuchanka's greatest city.

Even after thousands of years of abuse, The Wrath had to admit that The Hollows had held up well. Covering nearly 500 square kilometers in ancient buildings, The Hollows felt like the carcass of some gigantic ancient beast. The Wrath wondered what it might have looked like during the pinnacle of Krogan civilization.

The Krogan in the past used this city as both a ritualistic burial ground and as a shrine to their pantheon of gods. Catacombs beneath the city stretched deep into the planet and were filled with the bones of the dead. Shrines for each of the Krogan gods had been built within the walls.

Being the God of War and leader of the Krogan pantheon, Vaul's Eye sat in the center of the city, serving as one part monastery and one part fortress. It now also served as Wreav's base of operations and house of his throne.

The city was deathly quiet. Not even the wind could be heard, almost as if the planet was holding its breath.

The Wrath took in a deep breath of Tunchanka air. It tasted of stale dust and ancient bones, but soon it would taste of blood and fire.

He sensed the approach of four individuals from behind, but did not turn. His moment to himself was over, it was now time to fulfill his duty.

The approaching group stopped a few meters away.

"My lord," Zhaff began. "The Turian fleet has arrived and is holding position above the atmosphere. They are landing troops."

The Wrath grunted in acknowledgement. He finally turned around to greet the group.

Zhaff and Marshalla had respectfully knelt down on to one knee.

Marshalla had taken it a step further and bowed her heads submissively. Though her power had flourished underneath his tutelage, she remained unsure of herself and somewhat shy. Zhaff on the other hand kept his chin pointed upwards. The Korun Sith was a fiercely talented Force sensitive and warrior, but The Wrath found him to be dangerously arrogant. He suspected that it was a because on Zhaff's homeworld of Haruun Kaal, the entire populace was Force sensitive, and thus Zhaff felt innately superior to others.

Wreav stood behind his two apprentices. The Krogan did not kneel in respect, instead choosing to stand with his arms cross in impatience. The Wrath chose not to acknowledge him yet.

Next to Krogan was a handsome Human male with fair skin, glossy black hair slicked back stylishly, and a clean shaven face. The Wrath recognized him immediately.

"General Quinn, you may rise."

"Thank you my lord."

"You as well my apprentices," added The Wrath, when they remained kneeling. Wreav let out an audible snort of disgust at their dogged obedience.

"What is your will, master?" Marshalla's voice was incredibly soft compared to those around her.

"You two know your assignments. Bring me the Council ambassadors, alive. You will be assisted by Major Pierce and two squads-"

"We do not need the Imperials to complete our assignment," Zhaff protested. When The Wrath's glaring black eyes rested upon him, the apprentice realized his error.

"You will be assisted by Major Pierce," The Wrath repeated, more forcefully this time.

Zhaff turned away. "Yes master, as you say master."

"Vette will be your pilot," The Wrath continued, "I will not tolerate failure for this mission. The Emperor himself wants this done. Prove that I was right to trust the two of you, or do not return. Understood?"

"Yes master," they both said.

"Good, go then."

Both apprentices bowed at the waist and then departed. Quinn and Wreav stepped forward to take their place.

"General Quinn, what is the status of the Armageddon Corps?"

"My lord, the soldiers of the 77th Assault "Armageddon" Corps are in place and awaiting battle. As you have instructed, I have strategically placed the men in order to ensure maximum casualties upon the Turian forces. I estimate a minimum of 57.98% enemy casualties within the first hour of fighting, while the 77th Assault Corps only sustains, at most, 12.52% losses."

The Wrath nodded, ever since he'd met Malavai Quinn he had known that the man had a talent for warfare. It was good to see that he had made the correct decision in ensuring that Quinn was promoted quickly up the Imperial ranks to become General of Armageddon Corps.

"That's all well and good for you Imperials, but there's a problem." Wreav pushed his way in front of Quinn and jabbed a meaty finger at The Wrath. "Your soldiers are taking up all good spots and pushing my people to the very front, where there's minimal cover."

"It is for the best," Quinn assured. "The Krogan warriors have physiques and mentalities that make them perfect for front line work. In addition, most of them are armed with weapons better suited for close range. And statistically, our soldiers have a higher hit per shot ratio. Moving the Krogan to the front will result in an increase to their ratio of kills to shots fired and a higher efficiency of ammo usage."

"Don't try to cover it up with your fancy talk! Say it for what it is! You're using my people as cannon fodder!" He turned to The Wrath. "This is not what we agreed upon! I was assured that my people and I would be treated as respected allies! Is this how the Sith treat their allies?"

More than you know, The Wrath thought.

"Quinn, see if you can't accommodate his highness before the battle begins," The Wrath ordered.

"Yes my lord," Quinn said after a moment's reluctance.

"And you," he turned on Wreav. "Do not question the Sith Empire again, ever."

Wreav did not respond, but his silence was good enough.

"Where are the Turians landing?"

Quinn answered. "Our spy has informed us that General Castius Vakarian is deploying his forces to the Shroud, and intends to use it as a forward operating base. Broonmark and his Mad Claws have scouted the area around the Shroud and confirmed it."

"Ha! Let the Turian land there! That place is swarming with thresher maws! They'll all be eaten alive!" said Wreav.

"I doubt General Vakarian would make such a costly mistake," Quinn said. "I have read up on his achievements and analyzed his tactics. He is a superb general. I am sure that he is aware of the thresher maw infestation at the Shroud, and has some way to deal with it."

"I agree, with Quinn." The Wrath turned to the general. "Get me a connection to Broonmark. I would talk to him."

"Yes my lord."

"And me?" asked Wreav

"Gather your Warlords, we shall hold a war council soon. Make sure their blood his hot and full of rage. Today they will spill the blood of Turians."

Tuchanka - Inside the Shroud...

General Castius Vakarian stood silently in the Shroud's elevator, his back ramrod straight. His only company for the ride up were the two bodyguards standing at his flanks. Both were former members of Black Watch, wearing heavy blue armor and wielding modified Phaeston rifles.

The elevator ride to the top of the facility was surprisingly fast, only 2 minutes. The doors opened smoothly despite their age. Castius and his bodyguards stepped out into the Shroud's control center, which had already been populated with a number of techs and analysts busy working to restore the systems.

Castius spotted a youngish male Turian with orange face paint directing the work flow.

"Try replacing the wires, it is imperative that we link these systems to our own," he said to an engineer.

"Yes sir," said the engineer before returning to his work.

"I see you got started without me."

The Lieutenant finally realized Castius had arrived, and saluted smartly. "General Vakarian! Sir!"

"At ease Lieutenant Roma."

"Thank you sir. I'm sorry that I didn't notice you earlier sir, I hope you don't mind that I got here before you. I just wanted to make sure that everything was ready for-"

"It's quite alright lieutenant." Castius fought down a smile.

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

The young son of a family friend, Castius made Lieutenant Roma his aide as a favor. Luckily, it turned out that the young male was suitably competent for the role, if a bit over apologetic for doing nothing wrong. In many ways, Roma reminded Castius of Garrus, when he had been younger.

The thought of his estranged son caused Castius's mandibles to twitch in sorrow. He realized that he hadn't seen nor talked to his only son in nearly four years. Castius began to wonder if Garrus still had the Ventis pistol Castius had gifted to him for his graduation. More likely, his son had tossed it away, along with any memories associated with it.

"Sir? Is everything alright?" asked Roma.

Castius collected himself immediately. Now was not the time to be lost in the past, he reminded himself. "Yes lieutenant, I'm fine. Just thinking about what is to come."

"It's a little nerve wracking, isn't it sir?" agreed Roma.

"It is. Which is why we must do everything in our power to make sure things go smoothly and with minimal loss of life. Now, give me a status report."

"Yes sir! We just finished setting a perimeter of sensor beacons around the area sir. Just as you said, the thresher maws seem to be repelled by the signals being emitted by the beacons. They're keeping completely clear of us."

"Excellent. We have enough to do without having to worry about those creatures." In his youth, when he had been but a sergeant, Castius had seen firsthand what the acid of a thresher could do. "What of the deployment of our troops?"

"Colonel Gravial's of the 132nd Mechanized Infantry has managed to fully deploy her 1st Battalion onto the surface sir. The rest of the 132nd and Colonel Raxar's regiment are still waiting in orbit. Not exactly enough space around the Shroud to hold over 30,000 soldiers sir."

"Indeed, Is Colonel Gravial on site?"

"Yes sir. She's overseeing her troops in setting up defenses as we speak. They'll have this area fortified and up to standards in no time."

"Good. Have we found a place to keep the gunships and shuttles?"

"We have general. There's a flat patch of land that turned out perfect for a landing strip. We'll have four squadron's worth of air support when we hit the Krogan sir."

Castius nodded, so far so good. "And what of the Shroud's systems? Did we find what we need?"

"Yes general, if you'll follow me." Roma guided Castius and his bodyguard to the center of the control room where a large round transparent table was located. The lieutenant tapped a talon on a console, and the table came alive, projecting a green 3D image of the Shroud. Roma tapped a few more buttons and the image transformed into a green 3D model of Tuchanka.

"Is it up to date?" asked Castius.

"Yes sir. It seems the Shroud never stopped monitoring Tuchanka. All information about the Krogan and the planet are accurate as of a week ago. We have population numbers, environmental stats, clan distribution, maps, and more. It's a platinum mine of information general."

Castius grunted in agreement. "I suppose we'll have to send a thank you note to those slippery bastards in the STG. You can always count on a Salarian to spy. Then again, I suppose if it weren't for the Salarians, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with."

"Sir?"

The general wandered to a nearby window that allowed him to look out into the bleak Tuchanka landscape. The planet had been ugly enough from space. Up close, it was much worse. Below them were the bones of the ancient Krogan. Ruins of what must have once been a city stretched as far as the eye could see.

"It's a shame," decided Castius. "They could have been a fine addition to the Citadel."

"Yes sir," said Roma as he moved next to the general.

"There's a lesson in all of this, I'm sure. But we can't waste our time thinking about what could have been. We must focus on the present, and our duty."

"Yes sir. I agree sir." One of the technicians, a female Turian, walked up to Roma and said something. "Sir! We've just restored the Shroud's communications system."

"Excellent. Connect me to the Joining Tide and my command staff. It is time that this operation began." As Castius began to turn away from the window, he caught something in the periphery of his vision. He swiveled back around.

"Sir? Is everything alright?" asked Roma. "Did you see something?"

"I thought..." Just for a moment, Castius had seen a small patch of white in the vast brown and gray of Tuchanka. His eyes lingered on the spot where he had seen it. But it did not reappear.

"Sir?" Roma asked again.

"...it's nothing," Castius decided. "Just a trick of the light."

Broonmark ducked back into cover behind the ruined wall. The Turian, the one up in the tower,he had looked directly at the Talz warrior. For a moment Broonmark had felt the sharp spike of fear in his chest. His Sith master would not be pleased if he were to be discovered and would cleanse him from the clan for such incompetence.

But when no alarms began to sound and no Turian soldiers came out to investigate, Broonmark knew his cover had been maintained, much to his own relief.

Once again he peeked his massive bulk over the ruined wall and used a pair of macrobinoculars, specially modified for his four eyes, to peer into the Turian base. The majority of the soldiers he saw were helping set up defenses to make the area around the Shroud more defensible. Prefabricated walls were setup to provide cover. Turrets, both manned and automated, were placed at strategic locations. Broonmark even saw a few Turians setting up a perimeter of mines as a trap for any attackers.

More interesting however, were the tall antenna like objects being dug into the dirt at the very edge of the Turian perimeter. Broonmark had wondered what they were at first. But then he had seen a bulge in the ground begin traveling towards the Shroud. The Talz warrior had not been on the planet for very long, but he knew that the moving mound of dirt was a thresher maw, tunneling near the surface toward potential prey.

Broonmark had thought that the thresher would attack. But as it neared one of the antenna like contraptions the thresher had suddenly veered off in the opposite direction. Broonmark knew that this information would be important to his master.

Two Turian soldier had moved out to check the thresher repelling contraption. They were alone, isolated far from the main body of the army, where no one could see them die.

Broonmark felt his claws tingle. He imagined tearing through the armor the Turians wore to protect themselves, and then sinking his claws through the hard carapace like plates of the alien skin. His muscles clenched in anticipation at the very thought of covering his hands with their blue blood.

But no.

The time was not yet right. Soon, he would be able to sate his hunger for bloodshed. But for now, his mission was simply to scout.

"What do you see?" hissed a voice next to him.

Broonmark lowered his macrobinoculars to address the large sandy brown Trandoshan crouched down next to him. The reptilian alien's name was Hakver, in basic, and like Broonmark he had an insatiable need to kill.

"We see many warriors," replied Broonmark.

Hakvar licked his scaly lips. "Do they look strong? Are they worth many points?"

"There are many of them," Broonmark repeated, "enough for all."

Hakvar hissed with delight. "Let us attack now! My blade aches to be slicked with blood!"

"No!" growled Broonmark. "We do as commanded. Time for killing shall come later."

"But-"

"Obey! Or We shall cleanse you from the clan!"

Hakver hissed again and his clawed hands gripped the twin blades at his waist. "Their blood, or yours, does not matter. You are tamed, the Mad Claws require new leadership."

Just as Broonmark was about to draw his own vibroblade and strike down the stupid lizard, his holo-communicator chirped. He pulled it out and pressed a button to accept the incoming transmission. A miniature blueish-gray figure of The Wrath materialized in Broonmark's palm.

"Master," Broonmark greeted him with a bowed head.

Hakvar's earlier blood lust died immediately.

"Broonmark," The Wrath spoke, "have you finished your scouting mission?"

"We were just about to return master. But then Hakvar attempted to usurp our position as leader of Mad Claws."

"I-" The Trandoshan's protests died on his lips. The miniature Wrath formed a pincer with his tiny hand, and Havkar was lifted off the ground by his throat.

"Is that so? Any other time, I would allow you two to fight it out. After all, the Mad Claws must be led by the strongest. But by challenging Broonmark now, you nearly jeopardized the war effort. I DON'T appreciate that Hakvar."

"I...I...didn't..." The Trandoshan gurgled his words.

"You didn't even think about how I might feel about it, did you? I value savage killers. But I have no use for mindless killers." The Wrath closed his pincer into a fist, and Hakvar's neck snapped. The body dropped the ground a moment later. "Take his head. Return, and show it to the rest of the Mad Claws. Let them know that until the battle is finished, I will not tolerate any infighting."

"We understand and obey, master."

"I await your report Broonmark. Don't keep me waiting." The Wrath's image disappeared.

Broonmark drew his vibroblade and walked over to the Trandoshan's corpse. The planet's many creatures would ensure that the body would never be found. The Talz had been disappointed that he had not been allowed to put down Hakvar himself, but for now, cutting his ugly head off was enough for Broonmark.

The Shroud - Communications Room

Castius followed Roma to the Shroud's communication's room, located below the tower's control center. The room adhered to the usual Salarian mindset. Economical in its use of space, leaving just enough for around six Salarians standing shoulder to shoulder, or in this case, four Turians wearing combat armor.

Because of the importance of its purpose in the past, the Shroud boasted a top of the line communication's suite for its time. Thankfully what was top of the line back then was not too far off from what was commonly used now. The 141st engineers had managed to replace any out of date components.

Roma tapped a few buttons on a console to open the line.

9 holographic figures, hued orange, appeared in a semi-circle around the room.

To the far left stood Admiral Regirus. Standing next to her were four more Turians.

The first was a massively tall Turian, standing at least 2 meters (6.5 human feet) with black plates and red markings. This was Colonel Raxar, he was Castius's second in command, and had served in the 141st for nearly 30 years as the colonel of the 64th Infantry Regiment.

Second was a male Turian just as tall but noticeably leaner. His plates were a dull brown and he wore his pure white markings in a spotted pattern. Major Sancas was the commander of the 197th Field Artillery Battalion, and was relatively new to his position, having only been promoted a year ago after his predecessor had retired.

Third was Major Brucion, a plain looking Turian of average height, and the barefaced commander of the 255th Heavy Armor Battalion. He was a self-proclaimed 'patriot' of the Turian people. Castius preferred to call him what he really was: a supremacist. Castius did not care about the personal beliefs of his men, but he had to admit that Brucion's views sometimes got underneath his plates.

Last was a female Turian, Wing Captain Sylcus, commander of the 9th fleet's fighter complement. Sylcus was very laid back, especially compared to the always business attitude of the Admiral. Castius personally thought her a bit arrogant, but given her service record he had to admit that she had some right to be, at the very least, proud.

Standing on the other half of the room were the Council's chosen ambassadors, four in total, each representing a member of the council.

Castius and Roma gave a Turian salute to their fellows in the 141st, and a polite nod toward the ambassadors.

"Where is Colonel Gravial?" asked Raxar, his voice was deep and heavy, even for a Turian.

"Colonel Gravial is currently seeing the setup of operations around the Shroud," answered Castius. "I will update her later. For now, we must plan for what is to come."

"And what is to come general?" asked Quentius. The Turian ambassador crossed his arms. "Please tell us, since you have so far kept my colleagues and I out of the loop of your invasion plan."

"Quentius, please." Ambassador Esheel, the Salarian representative, wore a dull grey robe that was almost painful in its simplicity. "General Castius, my colleague is simply trying to remind you that though your men and the 9th fleet have orders to occupy the planet, this is first and foremost, a mission of diplomacy."

In the corner of his eye, Castius saw Admiral Regirus roll her eyes. He fought to not do the same.

"That may be so Ambassador Esheel. However, I must insist that my men be the first to make contact with the Krogan. Given their history, it would in my opinion, be the safest and most logical plan of action."

"Agreed, the Krogan only understand strength. We must show it to them if we hope to talk to them," said Regirus.

"I must concur with the General and Admiral," said Ambassador Irissa. The Asari wore a low cut dress made of shimmering red fabric, embroidered in gold with what looked to be the stylized waves of an ocean. "It would be best to approach the Krogan after they have been shown that we are extending our hand out of mercy, rather than out of desperation."

"We're here to talk them down! Not intimidate them!" Quentius protested.

"In my hundreds of years of experience. For Krogan, the two are one in the same."

"Well we aren't Krogan!"

"That much is clear," said Ambassador Udina. The middle-aged Human male wore a cream colored suite with an orange tie. "But we are dealing with Krogan. Perhaps things would go smoother if we were to...speak their language, per say?"

"Ambassadors, if I may." All eyes turned to Castius. "Allow me to first purpose my strategy. Then you may decide if it is good enough for your mission of peace."

The ambassadors exchanged looks, then all nodded.

"Very well general, proceed," said Irissa.

Castius silently thanked the Spirits. If their bickering had gone on any longer, he would have simply left and ordered the operation to go ahead, the consequences be damned.

Tuchanka - The Hollows

The Wrath's war council had gathered in the Urdnot throne room, where now a large holo-table resided in front of the throne. Wreav sat in his throne, four large, grizzled looking Krogan guards at his side.

Across from the Krogan king, The Wrath stood alone.

The divide between the Krogan and their Imperial allies was quite apparent. The commanders of the Imperial forces stood together on one side of the table, while Wreav's Krogan warlords occupied the space opposite to them. The warlords were obviously distrustful of outsiders, and the Imperials thought the Krogan barbaric savages.

Thankfully, the mutual dislike had amounted to little more than reproachful glares, so far at least.

The Wrath glanced at the Imperial side of the table and was glad to see that at the very least, Quinn appeared to be maintaining a professional attitude. His handsome face was impassive, even as some of the Krogan glared menacingly. But Quinn's second in command, a male Devaronian with yellowish-green skin named Colonel Zikato, was glaring right back at the Krogan with his devilish red eyes.

A Krogran with a brown crest, Nok Gram the new warlord of Clan Nok, hefted his massive cleaver and placed it on the table for all to see. In response Major Bahl, a rather striking female human with blue hair, commander of Armageddon Corps' walker regiment, drifted her hand precariously close to the blaster pistol hanging from her waist.

Nakmor Hurd, an older Krogan with a gray crest, 'checked' his shoulder-fired chain gun, showing to everyone how quickly the six barrels could spin. Darth Medechas, representative of the Sith attached to the Armageddon Corps, countered by causing a few sparks of Force Lightning to manifest between his fingers.

"How much longer must we wait?" Wreav's voice broke the tense silence.

"As long as we have to," replied The Wrath. "Broonmark will not fail me, if he is late, it is because he must be."

Wreav seemed to want to argue more, but a glare from The Wrath silenced any further words. Instead the Krogan monarch sat back in his throne and crossed his arms in silent menace.

Finally a chirp came from the holo-table.

"Lord Wrath, we have an incoming transmission," announced Quinn.

"Patch it through."

Quinn pressed a button, and a blue-gray hologram of the Talz warrior Broonmark appeared in the center of the table. Flanking Broonmark was a tall gray haired Wookiee and a massive red skinned Houk.

"Master," Broonmark trilled and knelt down respectfully toward The Wrath. The Wookiee and Houk beside him did the same.

"Broonmark, report. What is the status of the enemy army?"

"It is as you said master. The enemy clan is large and vast. We have seen that they are well equipped for an invasion."

Darth Medechas let out a chuckle. "So much for the, 'diplomatic mission' of the Council."

"We have seen soldiers, armored vehicles, tanks, and even flying machines," continued Broonmark. "But though the enemy clan's forces are many, they are still too few."

"That thing isn't making any sense. How can there be many but too few?" asked Nok Gram.

"Explain Broonmark."

"We have counted the enemy clan's forces. There are not enough to hold the planet. Even the Krogan by themselves would have outnumbered the amount of enemies gathered at the Shroud."

The Wrath looked to his general. "Quinn, what is your assessment?"

"What Broonmark is seeing is likely just the vanguard my lord. General Vakarian is well known for his blitz tactics. The forces he has gathered on the ground now will likely be used for a fast precision strike at a key location. Once a beachhead is established, the rest of Castius's forces will be deployed from orbit via troop transports."

"Casualties made by flak and artillery would be kept to a minimum that way," added Colonel Zikato, as he scratched his goatee. "The first wave will likely be made up of heavy troops and armored vehicles. The sort that knows how to take a beating, and break through enemy lines."

"Ha! They're tanks will be no threat," said Chieftain Renk Tobal, a brown crested Krogan wearing bright orange armor and a pair of welding goggles.

"I'm in agreement," said Major Bahl, "our walkers will be more than a match for whatever vehicles the Turians might throw at us."

"We should not underestimate them. Turian armor is famous for being a combination of fast, maneuverable, and durable," warned Quinn. "Our biggest advantage will be surprise. I believe that our artillery can wipe out the enemy's armored units from afar, before they can ever reach the city."

"Ha? What's the matter? Afraid of getting blood on your nice clean uniforms?" asked Weryloc Ghuul.

Quinn scowled. The Krogan's mannerism's and insults dredged up memories of early years working with the now Major Pierce. He too had liked to insult Quinn. Just as he had back then, Quinn refused to take the bait.

"I'm simply outlining the most effective means of winning the battle," Quinn said evenly.

"You're a coward," Ghuul continued to prod.

"Intelligence doe not indicate a lack of courage."

"You wouldn't last a single day in the Bad Lands."

"I believe the smarter thing to do would be to simply avoid the Bad Lands entirely, no?"

"Ha! Just like I said: a coward, trying to avoid the hard path."

"Enough!" Wreav's voice boomed. "You will remain respectful towards our allies Weryloc, or I will have your waggling tongue removed."

"Of course, my king," the Weryloc Chieftain did not even try to hide his sarcasm.

"Do you have a problem with my general?" asked The Wrath.

Weryloc seemed startled. "I...no, no of course not."

"Good, try to keep it that way."

The rest of the gathered chieftains noticeably edged away from Ghuul. All of them had seen the holo-recording of The Wrath single-handedly massacring Clan Hokar and executing Hokar Vark. The Krogan respected strength above all else, The Wrath's display had earned him that and more.

It had earned him their fear.

This did not go unnoticed by Wreav, who Weryloc had had no problem disrespecting openly. Jealousy was starting to brew within the King of Tuchanka, a jealousy that felt disturbingly familiar.

First Wrex's shadow, and now his, will I ever escape? Wreav's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of an Imperial officer walking up behind Quinn and whispering something to the general.

"It seems that our spy within the invasion force has managed to provide us with some crucial intelligence," announced Quinn.

A shared look of surprise spread through the gathered Krogan chieftains.

"You have a spy among the Turians?" asked Nakmor Hurd.

Darth Medechas smiled evily. "We have spies everywhere."

Aboard the Steadfast...

"That went better than I had expected," said the holographic projection of General Vakarian.

Kivara had to agree. It had taken two whole, brutal, hours to explain the plan to the four ambassadors, three of which had absolutely no understanding of military strategy. But in the end they had conceded that it was a good plan, and was the most likely to bring about the best results.

It had probably helped that the general had constantly emphasized to the ambassadors that by sending the troops in first, their safety would be all but guaranteed. It hadn't been enough for everyone though. Ambassador Quentius had been particularly vocal in stating his opinion that a show of force would only make things worse.

"I wanted to strangle Quentius the entire time," she admitted.

"He does seem a bit naive, doesn't he?"

Kivara snorted. That was putting it kindly, personally she would have used another word: ignorant. Of all the ambassadors, the Turian ambassador had been the most against leading with military action. It had taken every shred of discipline and self-control Kivara had not to order the Steadfast to fire on the Joining Tide and free herself of the meddling of politicians.

She knew his type. Born into a prominent family, given everything he ever needed, promoted through connections and favors. He hadn't earned anything, and yet he had everything. It wasn't fair.

"Quentius is going to be a problem, I just know it," she said, channeling her hidden aggression.

"He's just fighting for what he believes in. No one can blame him for that."

"I can and I will. Especially when it gets in the way of completing my mission."

"Our mission."

"...our mission, or course."

"I understand where you're coming from. But the truth is the galaxy needs politicians like Quentius, one's whose first instinct is to come up with a non-violent solution. Otherwise it'd be far too easy for dictators to rise."

"It's not the politicians who bring down dictators General Vakarian. Soldiers do that. We do that."

"All Turian politicians were once soldiers at some point. They're not nearly as clueless as you might think Admiral Regirus. And always remember, it is the politicians who lead the people. Not the soldiers. There is a reason for that."

"...as you say, General."

A voice from Vakarian's side informed them both that the first phase of the general's plan was about to commence.

"I must go and see to my forces," he said. "I shall keep you updated on the situation. If the Krogan resist, be ready to provide support."

"Of course. For the Hierarchy." She saluted.

"For the Hierarchy." He returned the salute and the hologram disappeared.

"Fool," Kivara spat, once she was alone.

She had made a mistake. She had thought that, like her, General Vakarian would be unsympathetic to the whining of the ambassadors. She had thought that they were of one mind in ignoring their protests. In truth, it seemed that the general would be as much of a problem as that idiot Quentius.

But there was little she could do about it now. The dice had been cast, and Kivara had a feeling that their results would not be in her favor. She could feel her chance at glory slipping away. It wasn't fair! She had been chosen for this mission! She had been given the opportunity to be forever memorialized in the annals of her people's history.

Now it was all being destroyed by an idealistic pencil pusher and an overly sympathetic general, who was supposed to be on her side.

Kivara wanted to stamp her foot like a petulant child, but reined herself in. That was behavior unbecoming of an Admiral.

It wasn't over yet. There was still one last factor she knew she could rely on: the Krogan. The ambassador and the general might be doing everything in their power to achieve a peaceful resolution, but she was quite sure that the Krogan would not be as cooperative.

Tuchanka - 10 Kilometers from The Hollows

"This is a dumb idea," muttered Warrant Officer Jurin Phomis.

"Say that a little louder Jurin, I don't think the general can hear you," said the co-pilot of his Mantis gunship, Warrant Officer Coris.

Jurin delivered a solid, yet playful kick to the back of Coris's chair. "Go prong yourself."

"Considering how beautiful I am, I think I will," he replied.

"Zeller Seven-Twelve, you know everyone can all hear you, right?" asked the voice of Jurin's friend, Lieutenant Tandios, over the squadron's TAC-com.

"Copy Zeller Seven-One. Just doing some bonding."

"Bond later. Keep your eyes on your scopes. Command says that the Krogans don't have AA guns anymore thanks to a Spectre. But let's do this real careful just in case."

"Roger Zeller Seven-One. If we see anything, you'll be the first I let know."

"Roger Zeller Seven-Twelve. That's good to know."

Jurin switched off his mic. "I still think this is a dumb idea."

"You'd better keep that to yourself," said Coris.

"You can't seriously not think this isn't a dumb idea."

"Doesn't matter what I think. General Vakarian's the one calling the shots."

"Yeah well, the general should remember these are Krogan we're dealing with. When has a Krogan ever decided that they wanted to 'talk' things out?"

"Probably never," admitted Coris. "But not shooting first is what makes us different from them, right?"

Jurin couldn't argue with that. "Right."

The task of the 7th squadron, codenamed: Zeller Seven, was fairly simple, if a bit strange. Their orders were to fly ahead of the main occupation force as a warning to the Krogan. Once they reached the Krogan cities, compounds, and camps, they would begin playing a message from their gunships external speakers.

The message would instruct the Krogan to lay down their arms and surrender to Citadel law. The hope was that upon seeing Turian aircraft fill their skies, the big lizards would lose their drive to fight, and realize that surrender was the better option.

In truth, despite his complaints, Jurin had to admit that this course of action sat better with him than doing a preemptive strafing run, as some of the other pilots had wanted to do. Too often he found, his people forgot that not all Krogan were the massive hulking warmongering beasts that were always the bad guys in movies. They had women too, and kids.

Jurin didn't how Krogan structured the living quarters of their clan on Tuchanka. But he didn't want to take the chance that his anti-infantry missiles might accidentally blow up a Krogan daycare or something.

But still...trying to talk to them? Might as well try to convince a Volus to go on a diet.

"We're two klicks out from the Hollows," announced Tandios. "All Zellers Sevens check in."

"Zeller Seven-Two, ready."

"Zeller Seven-Three, ready."

"Zeller Seven-Four, ready."

The pattern continued till it was Jurin's turn. "Zeller Seven-Twelve, ready."

"Zeller Seven-Thirteen, ready."

Once all twenty members of Zeller Seven had checked, Lieutenant Thandios contacted command.

"This is Zeller Seven-One to the Shroud. We're entering the airspace of the Hollows. I see movement on the ground through my sensors, but can't eyeball any of it."

"Have they shot at any of you?" asked the voice of the general.

"Negative sir. So far, so good."

"Well then, we may be in luck. Proceed as planned. If the locals fire upon you, you are authorized to retaliate with deadly force. But that is only if they fire first. Do you understand Zeller Seven-One?"

"Copy sir. We'll play nice as long as they do."

Inside the cockpit of Zeller Seven-One, Tandios's co-pilot and lover chuckled.

"That smart ass attitude is going to get you in trouble some day," she said, off the Tac-COM.

Tandios ignored her. "Squad, we are cleared to proceed. Split off to your designated areas and start playing the music."

"Copy that Zeller Seven-One, have fun out there."

Twenty confirming green blips appeared in Tandios's AR, and the other gunships flew off.

"Guess we should get to our area," said Pilra.

Zeller Seven-One dived down to an elevation of 45 meters, managing to stay just above the rooftops of the sacred Krogan city. Tandios chanced a look out through the cockpit window and managed to spot a few Krogan staring dumbly up at them from streets and windows.

"We've gathered an audience," Pilra noted as she brought the gunship to a halt. "Any missile locks yet?"

"Nope. Guess that means we can start the music."

From speakers of every gunship above the Hollows, the voice of Councilor Tevos began to speak. The Asari Councilor had been chosen as the voice of the message, due to the fact that of all the Council species, the Asari had the least to do with the Genophage.

"Krogan of Tuchaka. I am Tevos of the Citadel Council."

"For a thousand years, the Krogan and the Citadel have lived in resentment of each other. A resentment born of the scars of the Rebellions. Now, those scars threaten to once again tear apart and plunge our galaxy into an era of violence."

"The fleet that the Council has sent to your world, doe not come in the name of war, but in the name of peace. How many generations of Krogan were lost because of the rebellions? How many generations of Turians, Salarians, and Asari were lost? How many atrocities were committed...on both sides? Never again, I say."

"We send this delegation now, in hopes that the Krogan people will find it within themselves to work for a better peace. A peace where the hatred born from the Krogan rebellions has no hold over any of us. The Council asks that the leaders of the Krogan people hear out our ambassadors. The Council and the whole of the Citadel are committed to righting the wrongs of a 1000 years ago."

"Let us work together, to build a better future for all of us. One where the Krogan people flourish, and are part of the galactic community."

The Shroud

Castius leaned over the holographic display, like a god attempting to shield the small holographic miniatures of his soldiers from harm. The control room was completely silent save for the rhythmic electronic beats of the various analysis instruments inside of it.

The general's eyes remained fixed on the tiny gunships flying over the holographic Krogan city. But every now and then he glanced back at the armored convoy making its way to the city via the ancient streets. A total of 120 APCs, carrying around 2000 Turian soldiers, with an escort of 50 IFVs and 30 tanks would be in the first wave to hit the city.

What those soldier and vehicles would do once they reached the city depended on the response of the local populace to Councilor Tevos's words. If, with the help of the Spirits, the Krogan remained non-hostile, the first wave would simply occupy the city. But if the Krogan attacked, the first wave's job would be to secure a beachhead, codenamed: Talon One, to make an opening for the second wave and to allow a safe landing area for reinforcements from orbit.

"First wave is 4 kilometers out from the city general," said Lieutenant Roma.

Castius nodded, but did not respond. He kept watching the gunships, counting them to make sure there were still 20 in the air. So far the Krogan had not made any hostile moves. But the day was still young, and a feeling in Castius's gut told him that before it was over, Turian blood would stain the soil.

"-lost because of the rebellions? How many generations of Turians, Salarians, and Asari were lost? How many atrocities..."

From the fifth story of one of the many ruined buildings that made up the Hollows, The Wrath watched the gunships their message of peace. Peace. The fact that the Asari Councilor thought that her words along could accomplish something a elusive as peace was laughable to him. Had he been alone, The Wrath might have uncharacteristically let out a hearty belly laugh. But behind him, Wreav watched as well, though he did so from the center of the room where several camera drones circled him and his two bodyguards.

"Tevos is quite the orator," commented The Wrath. "Are you ready to compete?"

Wreav simply replied with a grunt. A green skinned Mirialan, wearing the uniform of the Imperial propaganda division, activated several lights that illuminated the Krogan king.

"We're ready to begin the broadcast when you give the order Lord Wrath," said the Imperial technician controlling the drones.

"Then we can finally begin." With a casual haste, The Wrath raised his wrist-communicator to the mouth of his mask. "Wrath to General Quinn."

"Quinn here. My lord?"

"Open fire."

The alarms inside the cockpit of Zeller Seven-Twelve screeched. Jurin's eyes immediately dropped down to his dashboard. "Multiple missiles locks from the ground! Evasive! Now!"

Coris jerked on the flight stick, but it was already too late.

Two missiles streaked up from the city, using homing technology far more advanced than what the Turians had expected. The first missile curved and hit Zeller Seven-Twelve in the tail, and sent it into a gut churning downward spiral.

"We're hit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"I'm losing her!" Coris viciously fought the controls. Then the second missile hit.

"We've lost our tail!" announced Jurin. The city below began to grow closer and closer. "We're going down!"

The Shroud

Suddenly every eye in the control center was on the hologram miniature of Zeller Seven-Twelve spiral out of control. Only Castius maintained independence from the spellbinding tragedy unfolding on the table.

"Track their position!" When no one responded, he added: "NOW!"

"Yes sir!"

"This is Zeller Seven-Twelve! We have lost control and are going down!"

"No! Eject! Eject!" Tandios desperately searched through the cockpit window for Zeller Seven-Twelve.

"...Jurin," Pilra's voice was filled with barely contained horror.

"Systems are dead! We're going to crash in the Hollows! I repeat! This is Zeller Seven-Twelve going-"

The line went dead, and alarms began to screech inside their own cockpit.

"Missile locks!" The second the words left Tandos's mouth, he saw a plume of smoke in the streets below. Pilra immediately threw the gunship into evasive maneuvers.

"This is Zeller Seven-One! We're under fire! Locals are hostile! I repeat! The Krogan are attacking!"

3 Kilometers from The Hollows

Crowded into an APC with the rest of his squad, Sergeant Tiberius checked his Phaeston rifle one final time. It took every ounce of discipline installed in him by his training to not let his impatience show. It didn't help that Councilor Tevos's prerecorded message was broadcasted to the entire legion.

"-the Krogan and the Citadel have live..."

Tiberius was doing his his best to tune it out, when he heard the first shell hit.

"SPIRITS!" Private Simdus cried out as she saw the APC behind them disappear in a geyser of fire and dirt.

"Incoming artillery fire!" came Colonel Graviel's voice over the speaker. "All units! Double time to Talon One! Now! No-"

At the same time, Tiberius heard the deafening strike of another artillery shell.

"SHIT!" screamed the driver.

Lieutenant Naevra tore off her seat belt and ran up to the driver. "What the hells happened?"

"The Colonel's APC just got torn up! We've got to turn back!"

"Hold the course! We've got to reach Talon One, or there will be nowhere for the second wave to come in!"

Through the armored wall of the transport, Tiberius heard more artillery shells rain down around them. How close were they? Had they been zeroed in by the Krogan?

"Lieutenant! Get back in your seat!" he shouted, but was ignored.

"Are you crazy? We've got to get out of here! I'm turning us around!"

Lieutenant Naevra's pistol was up in an instant and pressed against the driver' head. "I said hold the course!"

"Spirits! You're out of your mind!"

"Either die doing your mission or die a traitor! Your choice!"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fine!" the driver relented, but Naevra did not pull away her pistol.

"Sergeant! Get the men ready!" She shouted as another near miss rocked the transport. That one had felt much closer than the last one.

Sitting to his right, Corporal Dalivin was fervently uttering prayers to the Spirits. Just beside him Private Bellicus was gripping the restraints of his seat so hard Tiberius could hear the strain. Private Simdus sitting across from him was fiddling with the safety on her rifle.

"Simdus! Cut that shit out! You want your weapon to go off in here?"

"No sergeant!"

"Damn right you don't! Now-!"

The rest of Tiberius's words were lost. The entire APC bucked and rolled as a deafening clap of thunder filled the compartment. He caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Naevra flying back from the driver's seat and landing on the floor.

Tiberius fought against the sheer terror gripping his heart. To his shame, he could not stop himself form closing his eyes.

"Falia," he whispered so quietly, that only he could hear it.

"Come back soon papa."

When Tiberius finally reopened his eyes, he found Lieutenant Naevra looming over him. Her mouth was moving but her words seemed to come from far away.

"What?" he shouted, and found he could not even hear himself.

"...said we need to get moving!" Naevra's words finally rushed into his ears, as did whistle of more incoming artillery.

Tiberius's training immediately took over. He unlocked himself from his seat and proceeded to help Corporal Davlin next.

"Sound off!" he ordered.

Several pained replies came back.

"You two, with me! Sergeant, get the rest of the squad up and ready!" ordered Naevra as she took Simdus and Bellicus through the hole where the driver had once sat.

"Come on you fucking nest bodies! The APC is down! We've got to leg it the rest of the way!"

The Shroud

"What the hells is hitting First Wave?" demanded Castius.

"Artillery from The Hollows sir!"

"I can see that! Where the hells did it come from!? Someone get me eyes on it!"

"Zeller Seven! Are any of you still up?!" asked Lieutenant Roma.

There was a crackle of static. "This is Zeller Seven-One! We're still up in the air! But we've got to bug out soon! These Krogan have a lot of anti-air missiles!"

"Negative Zeller Seven-One! First Wave is taking heavy casualties from artillery coming from the Hollows! We need eyes on that artillery now!"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

Castius let the remark slide. No one had expected this. The Krogan weren't supposed to have this level of hardware. They'd come to the planet expecting the local populace to be armed with antique firearms, outdated armor, and maybe a few old vehicles. Instead his men were being torn up by accurate artillery barrages and missile launchers using homing technology.

"Zeller Seven-One, this is General Castius, do you read?"

"I read sir!"

"I'd like nothing better than to order you and your squadron out of there. But right now you're the best chance we've got to take out the artillery that's tearing apart First Wave. I need you to do this!"

A moment of silence passed before: "Damn it, alright sir! Zeller Seven-One to all remaining members of Zeller Seven. We have a new mission: search and destroy. Let's find that artillery and take it out!"

Castius nodded with satisfaction. "Get me Colonel Graviel!"

"Sir!" a voice not belonging to Graviel came over the line. Castius recognized it.

"Major Epimas? Where's Colonel Graviel?"

"She's gone! Shit!" The sound of screaming Turians and far off explosions filled the line for a moment. "Her APC got hit early! Almost half our transports are gone! We've already suffered 35% casualties, and we have no less than 500 soldiers on the ground without transport!"

The general uttered a quiet curse. 35% was at least 700 dead already.

"How far out from Talon One are they?" Castius asked.

"Based on Epimas's transmission, he is here. A full five kilometers from Talon One." Roma pointed to a section on the map.

Castius cursed. "There's no cover between them and Talon One. They'll never make it unless the pressure is taken off of them. Major Epimas?"

"General Vakarian?"

"How much of your escort was hit?"

"They're at aboutGET DOWN!" More screams and more explosions.

"Major?!"

"They're at about 70 percent strength sir! Orders?"

"Have the escort move ahead of your men as a vanguard to draw the enemy fire. Just hold out a little longer, we've got air assets trying to eliminate the Krogan artillery."

"Yes sir!"

Castius turned to the communications officer. "Contact the Second Wave. Tell Captain Sel'i to double time it!"

"Sir! We're receiving a transmission. Someone is broadcasting on all channels."

Roma's mandibles noticeably flared in the Turian equivalent of a frown. "The Krogan?"

"Unsure Lieutenant, but we'll try to pin down the source."

"Patch it through in the mean time," Castius ordered.

The technician did so, and the massive form of Urdnot Wreav appeared above the tactical map.

Unlike Tevos, Wreav spoke in a deep booming baritone, filled with passion and heat.

"My people...sons and daughters of Tuchanka. For too long have we been bowed. For too long have we kneeled to the will of the dishonorable Turians, the underhanded Salarians, and the scheming Asari. The history of our ancestors is one of proud conquers! Lords of war! The galaxy itself trembled the day we first reached the stars!"

"But the ancients of old would weep if they could see the state of their children! A generation of mercenaries and thugs! A generation that has accepted their death! No more I say! No more! I will not allow my people to simply fade away into the past! We will not be forgotten!"

"When our children's children are born, they will read the history of our days, written in the blood of our enemies! They will know, how we rose up against the vile aliens who dared to poison the air of Tuchanka! They will know, how we fought for the very of the existence of the Krogan! They will know, that for the crimes of aborting the future of OUR PEOPLE, that we unleashed a vengeance so terrible, that generations of Turians, Salarians, and Asari yet unborn, cried out in fear!"

Riding in the assistant driver seat of a V2-Xantros heavy tank, nicknamed by the crew: War Tomb, Apus had felt quite safe. Why wouldn't he when there was 3 inches of ship-grade alloy armor between him and the outside world.

Then the artillery had started raining down, and through a screen he watched as those around him were consumed under a storm of fire. He saw an T4-Rano IFV, part of the escort for the First Wave, take a direct hit from an incoming shell. The entire vehicle was ripped apart, its occupants vaporized instantly.

"Orders just came in!" announced Sergeant Hyber over War Tomb's speak system. "Escort force is taking point! We're gonna be the vanguard, and help clear a path for the infantry! Corporal Raliv!"

"Sir!" said Raliv, War Tomb's main driver.

"Put this heap into full throttle! Turians are dying out there!"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Private Caesis!"

"War Tomb ready to give the lizards hell sir!" said Caesis. Apus had been surprised to learn that War Tomb's main gunner was a female.

"Private Quic!"

"Systems and engine are good sir!" answered the tank's loader and engineer.

"Private Kilus! You ready on the turret?"

"Yes sir!" Apus replied.

"Good! Raliv! Stay in formation with the rest of the escort!"

Apus silently prayed to the Spirits of Palevan for safety.

"INCOMING!" Even through the machinery and armor, Apus could feel the shockwaves in his bones as artillery beyond his sight pounded the advancing group of vehicles. He hated this. He hated the enemy for striking from far away, from a distance where they could do nothing about it. He hated that they had weapons that made the near impervious armor of War Tomb basically useless.

At that moment, Apus wanted nothing more than to find the crews running the artillery, and tear them apart with his bare hands.

That desire only rose as he saw a fellow Xantros take a direct hit. For a moment it continued to roll on, and Apus felt his hope return. But then it started to slow, and eventually came to a complete stop.

"Damn them! They got Battle Bug!" announced Hyber.

"Just half a klick to Talon One!" said Raliv.

"Then we're in range!" Though he did not see it, Apus knew that the sergeant was bringing down the tank's scope.

"As I speak, the enemy attacks our most sacred of ancient cities, seeking to deliver a final blow to our people. To annihilate what little remains of our civilization."

"THEY ARE WELCOME TO TRY!"

"I see them!" said Hyber, spotting several Krogan warriors who had taken cover inside the remains of an ancient ship. One was leveling an old over-the-shoulder rocket launcher.

"Caesis! Let'em have it!" screamed Hyber.

"Firing!" War Tomb's main gun bellowed, and Hyber got to watch as the Krogan and their cover evaporated in a cloud of dust and smoke.

"Good effect! Target eliminated!"

"Hells yeah! Find me something else to shoot sarge!"

Hyber immediately set to the task of spotting more targets. A tower holding a heavy machinegun team. A pair of rocket launchers being fired from the roof of a two story building. An ancient anti-tank gun, crewed by a trio of Krogan, that managed to gut an IFV before being taken out.

Other tanks in the impromptu armored vanguard soon opened fire as well. The Turians were eager to repay the Krogan for the blood that had already been spilled. Credit where it was due, even under the harrowing barrage of tank fire and heavy accelerator rounds, the Krogan fought back viciously.

Even when they had become close enough to the city to no longer be threatened by artillery, more than a few IFVs and tanks in the vanguard were destroyed by rockets and anti-armor guns. But soon, Hyber had the pleasure of watching the Krogan defenders flee through his periscope.

"We've got them on the run!"

"That's right you dumb lizards! Show me your asses!" hooted Caesis as she fired at the retreating Krogan.

"Major!" Epimas swiveled in his cover to face a breathless Lieutenant Naevra. She slid to join him in hiding behind the burning metal carcass of a heavy tank.

"Lieutenant? Any news on our vanguard?"

"The plan worked sir! Talon One has been established! We have our beach head!"

Nearby soldiers close enough to hear let out a roaring cheer. Epimas allowed himself a breath of relief, and nodded solemnly.

"Excellent! Spread the word for all remaining forces to double time our advance, it won't take long for the Krogan to counter attack."

"Yes sir!" Naevra saluted quickly before rushing off to carry out the orders. Epimas turned to his communications officer.

"Contact the general! Tell him to send in the second wave immediately! We need those reinforcements if we're going to-"

"Sir! Transmission from the vanguard!"

"RUN CITADEL DOGS! COME AND FACE THE FURY OF THE CHILDREN OF TUCHANKA! COME AND SEE WHAT YOUR SINS HAVE WROUGHT! COME AND SEE THE MONSTERS YOU HAVE UNLEASHED!"

"FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"

"What in the name of the Spirits is that?!"

"JUST FIRE!" ordered Hyber, as he had no answer for the gunner.

War Tomb and the rest of the vanguard force had just begun to establish a perimeter for the tailing infantry. Then the Krogan had struck back with what Hyber could only describe as: a walking tank! There was no other way to describe it. The vehicle looked like a large head moving itself using a pair of reverse-knee legs.

At first, Hyber had thought it top heavy and silly looking. He figured that a single shot would be enough to knock the unconventional vehicle over.

Then the walker had opened fire with its nose gun. Instead of accelerator rounds, it had spat out red bolts of energy. Hyber watched in horror as a fellow Xantros tank was torn apart with just a few shots. Then the rack on top of the 'head' had unleashed a salvo of missiles that destroyed two IFVs.

"Raliv! Keep us moving! Swing us to its left flank!" ordered Hyber. To be stationary was to die. "Caesis! Why aren't you firing!"

"It's moving around a lot, alright?! It's not that fucking easy!"

A Xantros tank Hyber recognized as Battle Oath fired its main cannon. The heavy round impacted the side of the walker's head, causing it to stumble back. Amazingly however, it remained upright and proceeded to fire a trio of energy bolts at Battle Oath, destroying the tank.

"Spirits of spite! Where the hells did the Krogan get heavy energy weapons?!" demanded Kilus, the crew's newest member. Hyber could hear the edge of panic in the young Turian's voice. Hells, it was in his own voice as well. Those energy weapons had gone through armor like it was made of paper.

"Caesis! Come on!"

"Firing!" War Tomb belched out a heavy round. But just like Battle Oath before it, the round rocked the walker onto its back foot, and did little else.

"Shit!" cursed Caesis.

"Hold on!" Hyber took a closer look through his scope, and saw that the walker's armor had been damaged. "The thing is bleeding! We got to hit it again! Caesis!"

"Firing!" Another round thundered out from War Tomb's main cannon...and missed.

The walker had stepped out of the way at the last moment. It then turned squarely towards War Tomb.

"We've got it's attention!" The walker fired its nose cannon. But Raliv threw War Tomb into a turn at the last second, allowing the bolts of energy to only graze the side of the armor.

"Good driving Raliv! Quic! What's the damage?!"

"Just a flesh wound sarge!" reported the engineer. "But I don't recommend taking another!"

"Firing!" Caesis unleashed another shot, this one struck the walker square in its face.

"Minimal damage!" reported Hyber after a quick look through his scope.

"Quic! Load in a tungsten block!" ordered Caesis. Good idea, thought Hyber. Tungsten was the heaviest ammo type they had, and was used specifically to deal with heavily armored opponents.

"It'll just take a moment," said Quic.

"Quic! We don't have a moment!" As if sensing War Tomb's momentary helplessness, the walker unleashed an unrelenting barrage from its nose gun. Raliv gunned War Tomb's throttle and avoided the deadly storm of red energy.

Through his scope, Hyber watched two IFVs come to their aid.

"No! You idiots! Pull back!" he broadcasted over the Tac-COM, hoping that they would hear him.

The heavy turrets of both IFVs pelted the walker unrelentingly. Against infantry and lighter vehicles the rounds were more than enough. But the walker barely seemed to notice, and destroyed both vehicles with a volley of missiles.

"Fuck! Quic! Status?!"

"Tungsten is loaded!"

"Caesis! Hit that son of a bitch!"

"Firing!" Once again, War Tomb's main cannon fired. The tungsten round flew true and hit the walker, and penetrated through its chin. Then its head exploded, leaving a pair of headless mechanical legs to topple over onto the ground.

"Target down!" Hyber announced.

A cheer went up inside War Tomb, and over the Tac-COM.

"COME AND DIE ON THE GRAVES OF OUR ANCESTORS!"

"COME AND DIE IN THE FIRES OF WAR!"

"Sarge! I've got more bogeys on the sensors!" announced Kilus.

The cheer immediately died. Hyber went to his scope and what he saw made his stomach sink into his bowels. A full column of walkers, no less than two dozen, were marching out from the city towards them.

Kilus screamed his next words into the Tac-COM without hesitation.

"PULL BACK! EVERYONE PULL BACK!"

"They're pulling back from Talon One sir!" said the communications officer.

"What?! Who gave that order?!" demanded Major Epimas. He brought a scope up to his eye, then focused and zoomed in on a massive cloud of dust. Beneath it he saw the vanguard, made up of a variety of tanks and IFVs. All of them were moving in full reverse from Talon One. Epimas soon saw why, pursuing them was a force of...walking tanks?

"Sir!"

"Ugh, what now?!" asked Epimas, tearing himself away from the scope to glare at his communications officer.

"W-we're getting reports of a force moving on our left flank sir."

"A force? What kind of force? Krogan?"

"Unclear sir."

"Spirits damn it all! Do I have to do everything myself?" Epimas placed his eye to the scope again, this time swinging it towards the left flank.

What he found was even more bizarre than the walking tanks. Like the Turian's retreating vanguard, this force was moving fast, and kicking up a large cloud of dust. But their vehicles were much smaller than tanks and IFVs. It took the major a moment, but eventually he realized that he was looking at a company sized force made up of hover bikes.

And they were closing in fast.

The words, "BRACE THE LEFT FLANK!" had barely left his mouth, before they hit.

"WE SHALL SHATTER YOUR BODIES, AND TUCHANKA SHALL BE REBORN IN A BAPTISIM OF YOUR BLOOD!"

Riding their fast attack vehicles like ancient cavalry, Broonmark and his Mad Claws struck the remnants of the Turian infantry with blindingly savage speed and ferocity. He kept one clawed hand on the controls of his speeder bike and swung his vibro-blade with the other, slicing apart any Turian within reach.

The smell of blood filled Broonmark's nostrils, wetting his appetite, and the sounds of battle enflamed his blood with excitement. With a howl he lashed out with his vibro-blade and decapitated a Turian soldier. The alien's headless body stood for a brief moment, gushing blue blood, before finally falling. Broonmark hooted victoriously. Taking his other claw temporarily off of the bike control, he reached onto his bandolier and freed a thermal detonator. He lobbed the armed explosive and watched as a Turian squad was blown apart.

His fellow Mad Claws cheered with approval.

This is what Broonmark lived for. This was what he and all his Mad Claws lived for: battle, slaughter, taking life.

When he had cleansed his old clan, Broonmark had never thought that he would have another clan again. But then he had found The Wrath, and The Wrath had given him a new clan, a pure clan. This clan was filled with other who shared Broonmark's need to kill, to follow the instincts instilled in him from birth.

On his left, he watched a Shistavanen member of the Mad Claws set several Turians on fire with a wrist mounted flamethrower, then mercilessly gun down several more with a heavy blaster pistol. On his right, Broonmark saw Busurra, a grey furred Wookiee, also on a speeder bike, accurately blast apart victim after victim with his bowcaster.

"YAAAAAHOOOOOOOO!" An open topped speeder truck covered in spikes, carrying the Mad Claws most eccentric pair, ploughed through the Turian ranks.

"Taste my bumper beakies!" cheered Boff from the pilot seat. He was a Houk who was considered fat, even by his own usually rotund species. Like many other Mad Claws he used one hand to steer a vehicle, while the other held a weapon, an old fashioned double barrel flechette launcher.

"Hehehehehehehe! Ya ya ya ya ya ya! Suck laser!" said Pikly, a brown haired Chadra-Fan who was wielding the truck's mounted heavy blaster with great efficiency, mowing down Turians like a scythe through grass.

Despite having the advantage of surprise and speed, Broonmark had to admit that the Turians fought admirably. Many formed up into defensive groups that allowed them to cover one another while also presenting concentrated waves of fire.

Broonmark saw several of his clan get shot off their bikes by a squad of Turians who had formed a defensive circle. He felt no remorse or pity for the fallen, only a rising desire to kill more! With a feral roar, Broonmark turned his speeder bike towards them.

"KROGAN OF TUCHANKA! Though our enemies are as numerous as the sands of the desert, we will never again bow down to them, never again endure the shame they forced upon us, never again endure their false peace, never again allow our children to be taken away, before they could ever know the sun."

"Get into formation!"

"Friendly fire! Friendly fire!"

"I've lost shields!"

"HELP! MEDIC!"

"WATCH YOUR SIDES!" barked Epimas, over the cacophony of the battle.

He fired a concentrated burst from his Phaeston, killing another bike rider, this one some sort of reptile.

The attack had happened so quickly. Epimas had barely had enough time to rally what men he could into a circle. There was no cover out in this flat barren wasteland, so they had to rely on overlapping fields of covering fire. Once faced with the extraordinary discipline of the Turian soldiers, the enemy began to take casualties.

It was only after Epimas had made his first kill that he realized they weren't being attacked by Krogan. In fact, Epimas didn't recognize any of the beings attacking them at all.

Some of them were covered from head to toe in thick fur, others were reptilian and had scales. Some had horns or more eyes than a Batarian. Some wielded claws, while others used weapons that spat bright bolts of energy.

It was almost too much for Epimas, the strange non-Krogan aliens, the appearance of energy weapons, the use of hover bikes as a sort of modern cavalry charge. But his training held, and he ignored the burning questions in his mind. He could ask those later. Right now, he had to concentrate on getting himself and his men out of this alive.

"FOCUS FIRE ON THE ONES WITH GUNS! WATCH YOUR SHIELD LEVELS! SHOTGUNS IN FRONT! CAREFUL WHERE YOU TOSS GRENADES!"

A hovering box like vehicle swooped overhead, carrying two more of those large reptilian aliens. They hissed down at the Turians and aimed what looked like hunting rifles.

"ROCKET THAT PLATFORM!" Epimas roared. The lizards opened fire and managed to cut down two of his men before someone finally managed to hit it with a Cobra launcher, and send it spiraling to the dirt. Both occupants survived the crash.

Before the his men could deal with them, a hover bike carrying a large gray hairy creature swept by. The thing leveled a crossbow and fired five shots of green energy. Five of Epimas's men were blown off their feet. Then as quickly as it had come, the hairy creature and its hover bike disappeared into the chaos of the battle.

Then the lizards attacked, dropping their weapons, and leaping at them with their claws. One managed to tear out a Turian's throat before taking a close range shotgun blast, the other Epimas shot in the head with his rifle.

"Damn it all!" cursed Epimas as he looked at the corpses of his men.

Off in the distance, he heard the sound of those walking tanks. Ka-chunk! Ka-chunk! Ka-chunk! They towered over his men and used their nose guns to mercilessly mow them down.

"Sir! I have General Vakarian on the line!" announced his communications officer.

"Thank the Spirits! Patch me in!"

The Shroud

"General!"

Castius leaned over the table. "Major Epimas! The second wave is on its way, what is your status!?"

Static filled the line. -out of nowhere sir! We can't hold out for INCOMING ATTACK RUN! GET DOWN!"

"Major?!" Castius turned to the comm-technician. "Can we clear up this signal?"

"I'm try sir! But the problem is more than likely on their end."

"Damn it! Major?!"

"Sir! First wave is down to 50% strength! Our vanguard is in full retreat! They have armored support! Weapons that I've never seen before! They're-" Castius heard an explosion and several screams, followed by a call for a medic. "-they were ready for us sir! I've never seen anything LOOK OUT!"

"Major?!"

"WE SHALL STRIKE LIKE THUNDER AND LIGHTNING!"

Broonmark drove between the legs of a walker, leapt from his speeder bike at the last minute, and watched it plough through the circle of Turians and break their formation. He followed up by tossing a thermal detonator into their midst.

"GRENADE!" the leader shouted. The thermal detonator exploded, taking out about a quarter of the group.

Broonmark then drew his vibro-blade and fell upon the survivors. Six Turians died before the rest started to recover and fight back.

"KILL THAT THING!" the Turian leader ordered his remaining group of twelve soldiers. They all raised their weapon to fire. But Broonmark swiped his claws up from the ground, throwing up a thick screen of dust, before activating his stealth generator.

The Turians fired into the cloud of dust and hit nothing but air.

"Where the hells did it go?" asked a soldier, before Broonmark reappeared and impaled him from behind. He cut down two more soldiers before they finally realized that the Talz warrior was behind them. Broonmark threw out a pair of magna-bolas to incapacitate a Turian leveling a shotgun. By then, the Wookiee warrior Busurra, had returned for another drive by.

Caught between the two alien warriors, the Turians fell quickly.

"WE WILL TEAR APART THEIR DECADANT WORLDS!"

Major Epimas watched as the men he'd rallied died one by one. The beast with the DEW shaped like a crossbow had returned. Then there was the other one, just as hairy, but with white fur, and large black soulless eyes. The thing wielded, of all things, a massive sword that sliced through their armor like it was nothing.

When Epimas fired his Phaeston at the white beast, it had raised its left forearm and activated some sort of disk-shaped energy shield that disintegrated all bullets that hit it. Despite that, Epimas did not release the trigger of his rifle. He kept pouring it on in hopes that eventually the shield would break.

It did not.

"WE WILL DESTROY THEIR CORRUPT CIVILIZATIONS!"

His Phaeston failsafe systems activated with a shrill screech, and the trigger locked.

The white beast lowered its shield and leaped forward. Epimas instinctively dropped the rifle and reached for his pistol. But before his talons even touched it, the beast had driven the blade into his gut.

A coldness gripped Epimas. He had not wanted to die here. He had hoped to return to Palevan and father a family. He had not wanted to die, alone.

He looked down at the blade sticking through him. Then he looked up into the black soulless eyes of his killer.

It howled something he didn't understand.

That was the last thing Major Epimas heard, before the beast pulled its blade out, and cut off his head.

"WE WILL SLAUGHTER THEIR FAMILIES!"

"AND THEN!"

"...and only then"

"...will the Krogan be avenged."

"There they are!" It felt good to say that. Only twenty minutes had passed since Zeller Seven-One had been ordered by General Vakarian to locate and destroy the enemy artillery. Those twenty minutes might as well have been an eternity, spent dodging anti-air missiles and heavy weapons fire.

But now their objective was in sight, and it wasn't at all what Tandios was expecting.

As a child, Tandios had visited the museums on Palevan on the Krogan rebellions. There he had seen models and holo-pics of the ancient Krogan World Shaker artillery guns. They were massive things that lived up to their name and made other artillery guns look insignificant in comparison. Based on a chemical explosion, the World Shakers were used to launch massive explosive shells and utterly annihilate entire cities.

These artillery guns were not what Tandios had seen in the museums.

There were about a dozen of them, and though they bore the same shape of most artillery guns, they moved around on what looked to be four mechanical legs. Using the magnification lens of his display, Tabduis could see each of the guns was operated by a single gunner that occupied a seat on the side of the gun, and had a crew of two that every so often reloaded it.

Even more interesting than the guns themselves were the crew. They were not Krogan. Most seemed to be Human, or possibly Asari. But Tandios also saw a few that looked utterly alien to him, ones with tentacles, horns, or fur.

Tandios mentally shook himself. No time to concentrate on that. Good Turians died every moment the guns were allowed to fire.

"You better contact the general, tell him we found the guns" said Pilra.

He attempted to do just that, but was rewarded with nothing but static.

"Damn it, I can't get through."

"Did our comms unit get damaged? We took some weapons fire a little bit back."

"That, or there's a jammer."

"The Krogan can't possibly have..." Pilra stopped herself. The Krogan couldn't possibly have had missile launchers or artillery either, and yet they did. A jammer was no longer out of the question.

"This Zeller Seven One to all Zellers. Can any of you get a line to command?"

A few moments passed before Tandios received 14 red lights. A jammer then.

"Doesn't matter," he decided. "We've still got a job to do. The guys on the ground are still depending on us. Everybody! Descend to 500 meters, arm everything, targets 30 degrees!"

"Copy Seven One, forming up on you."

On his display, Tandios saw fourteen blue blips move in behind them. Then felt himself get pressed back into his seat as Pilra put them into a downward dive.

"4,400 meters to target, ETA: 6 minutes," she announced.

"Increase speed. The longer it takes us to do this the more of our people die."

"Increasing speed. 4,100 meters to target."

"Alright everyone, we're going to do a single sweep. Pick your targets and once you're in range, launch everything you-"

"Wait! I've got something on my scopes!"

"My lord, we have them in our sight."

"Take them out."

In the corner of his eye, Tandios saw a flash of red. Then he saw Zeller Seven Three suddenly explode into a shower of flaming hot metal.

"INCOMING GARDIAN FIRE!" No sooner had he shouted out his warning than his vision was filled with more bright flashes of red.

A small part of Tandios realized his statement was incorrect, as the red bolts of energy were not the same as the long beams of a GARDIAN laser system. But the rest of his mind realized it made little difference, when he saw another gunship take a direct hit and explode immediately afterwards.

"We just lost Seven Three and Sixteen!" someone screamed over the Tac-Com.

"Hang on!" ordered Pilra as she threw their gunship into an evasive roll.

"I'm hit!" Tandios heard, and saw the blip representing Seven Nine disappear.

"The Krogan weren't supposed to have AA guns!" Pilra cried out. But Tandios barely heard her. He was too concentrated on his display, watching more and more of his squadron disappear. There were only six blue blips left on his screen.

"Break off the attack! I repeat! Break off! Retreat to a higher elevation!"

"No! We can make it! We can AHHH-!" Another blip disappeared.

"Damn it! Pilra! Get us out of here!"

"Already working on it!" Alarms began to scream inside the cockpit. "Incoming missile!"

"Launching chaff!" He felt a vibration against his back against his back, and his display informed him that the missile was thrown off course. Tandios felt some measure of relief. That vanished, when he saw their gunship's right wing get vaporized.

Alarms began to screech inside the cockpit again and a flashing red light filled his vision.

"We're hit! We're hit! Going down!" said Pilra with barely maintained calm.

"We've got to eject!" Tandios grabbed a large yellow lever on the side of his seat. He was just about to pull it when he saw that Pilra was not doing the same. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're still too high! If we bail now, we'll be shot right out of the air!"

"If we stay we'll blow up with the gunship! We need to go now!"

"No! I can keep this bird together for a little longer! Long enough to get us to lower altitude!" Another explosion shook the gunship, the left wing had been blown off.

"Pilra! We've got to go! Now!"

"Damn it! Fine! On three!"

Tandios nodded.

"One...Two...Three!"

Both of them yanked their ejection levers. The cockpit window blew off, and the outside world came rushing in. At the same time, the gunship finally decided to die. Tandios felt himself shoot up as the miniature thrusters underneath his seat lifted him to safety. A moment later he felt the heat beneath him as his gunship exploded.

"Spirits! That was a close one!"

Tandios expected to hear his lover's voice reply. It did not.

"My love...are you alright?"

Still nothing. Desperately he looked around, hoping to catch sight of her somewhere in the sky next to him. He saw nothing, except for the burning wreck of the gunship plummeting to the surface below.

"Love...are you there?"

Silence.

"...please answer," he whispered.

She did not.

A few Krogan spotted Tandios's chair gliding down towards the planet, the thrusters underneath guiding him to a soft landing. They took shots at the Turian pilot, missing him by wide margins.

He was aware of them. But could not bring himself to care.

His great love was gone, and all he wanted was to be with her again.

Even if that meant being with her again in the after life.

The Steadfast - Bridge

"We've lost contact with the entirety of the First Wave and its armored vehicle escort," General Vakarian's voice said over the speaker.

"I see," Kivara's tone was solemn, though her posture remained upright. "And what of Zeller Seven?"

"We have received no updates and are unable to contact them. We must assume the worst."

Kivara made a show of sighing in frustration. "Then the artillery is still a threat?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What a mess."

"We knew that resistance was likely. But no one could have predicted this."

"I suppose so," she said, but her tone betrayed skepticism. "How shall we proceed?"

"Since Colonel Gravial and Major Epimas are both KIA, I'll be giving a field promotion to Captain Sel'i. He's experienced, and the soldiers of the 132nd trust him. He'll lead the 2nd wave. But I want the rest of the Legion deployed, right now."

Kivara arched a brow plate, though the general couldn't see it. "I thought that we were waiting for a beachhead to be established."

"That is no longer an option. Without reinforcements, there will be no one to establish a beachhead. Have them land in the open. We'll use what's left of our armored support to cover their entry."

"Very well, you are the more experienced with ground battles, I will not question your decision on this."

"And I appreciate that. I also think we should put Captain Falari's Black Watch squad into action. The Krogan are well entrenched in the Hollows."

"Agreed. I'll have your orders passed along immediately."

"Very good. With the blessing of the Spirits, this will be the last mistake we make on this operation. For the Hierarchy."

"For the Hierarchy."

Once the transmission ended, Kivara felt herself smile.

The Krogan had not let her down.

Her war had begun.

CODEX: SITH EMPIRE: MILITARY: SPECIAL TASK FORCE 82 "THE MAD CLAWS"

Special Task Force 82, more famously known as "The Mad Claws", is a collection of highly skilled and violent individuals that are deployed with the purpose of fast attack, guerrilla strikes.

The group was first thought up of during the Pre-Revan era, in which the Empire was still prejudiced against non-humans. Special detachments of aliens were employed by the Imperial military as "experiments" to test the possibility of their use in battle. However, due to speciesism and political condemnation, most of these test failed to receive much attention or backing.

The concept was reintroduced during the Revan era, after the 2nd Burning of Coruscant, by the Emperor's chief enforcer: The Wrath. Under The Wrath's instruction, a special group of individuals, both human and alien, were gathered. The only requirement for joining was that the individual be, in the words of The Wrath himself: "vicious and bloodthirsty".

Since its inception, Task Force 82 has become one of the most feared and potent arms of the Imperial military. Their brutal, merciless, possibly even sadistic, methods have earned them a terrifying reputation. Entire cells of rebel elements or Republic remnants have surrendered, rather than face the Mad Claws.

The name "Mad Claws" comes from the culture of the Wookiees. Mad Claw, is a reference to a Wookiee who has dishonorably used his/her claws to harm another being. Wookiees believe that their claws should only ever be used for climbing. The title is fitting, since many of the Wookiees that are members of Task Force 82 are in fact Mad Claws.

Task Force 82 is currently being led by the Talz warrior: Broonmark, who before leading the Mad Claws, was the personal assassin of The Wrath.

Notable Members:

Busurra - A Wookiee bounty hunter best known for being the gladiatorial champion of the Outer Rim world, Elos II, and a frequent participant in Darth Nox's fighting pits.

Boff and Pikly - an unusual criminal duo from the outer rim, wanted by the Republic for 300 counts of assault, 250 counts of robbery, 423 counts of murder, 80 counts of property damage, 50 counts of arson, 27 counts of public indecency, and 1 count of throwing a Republic senator's pet nuna out an airlock.

CODEX: SITH EMPIRE: MILITARY: 77th ASSAULT "ARMAGEDDON" CORPS

In the pre-Revan era of the Sith Empire, there was once a battalion of the Empire's elite troops known as the Armageddon Battalion. This lone battalion was of such a caliber that entire campaigns were turned around once they began to participate.

Upon the ascension of Darth Revan to Emperor of the Sith, the Armageddon battalion caught the attention of The Emperor's Wrath, who had previously worked with the unit in the Corellia campaign. The Wrath subsequently assumed direct control of the battalion. Under his command, the Armageddon battalion reached new heights of fame.

The battalion eventually began to expand their ranks, and soon was large enough to be considered an individual Corps of the Imperial military.

Since then, the Armageddon Corps had earned a new title:

Hammer of the Empire

END

So that was a lot of work, but I enjoyed it. This chapter was originally supposed to be released a week ago. But work suddenly dumped a bunch of shit on me and then I caught a light head cold, which took more out of me than I anticipated, so editing took forever.

I realize that it must feel like I'm jamming 100 OC characters down your guys throats right now. Don't worry if you can't keep track of all of them, around 80% of them will be dead soon anyway.

I hope everyone is enjoying the reintroduction of some of the SW companions.

In summary:

Quinn is a General

Pierce is a Black Ops Major

Broonmark is a leader of a clan

Vette is still Vette

Jaesa is...somewhere else right now.

Next Time on ME: SoTS

More Turians die!

Space battles!

Jedi?

*Gasp!*