Author's Notes: Due to the format of this story, this is not a continuous account of Elysium. They're fragments Shepard actively remembers. There's a lot between these events that is not recorded, partly due to a lack of specific information about Elysium in the first place. Be aware, she's been up and running about for awhile, this is not the first wave of the attack.

On we go!

--

"What's happening?!"

"Get down, shitbird!" Shepard grabbed the man—unable to tell if he was local law enforcement or Systems Alliance—pulling him to the ground behind the chunk of concrete shorn off of one of the buildings behind which she hid. Popping her eyes over the cover, she leveled her shotgun. The resultant scream confirmed an unlucky batarian took the full blast of shot to the chest. "We're being invaded!"

It certainly seemed like that to Shepard, though for the first time when facing batarians—or a force mostly composed of batarians—she did not have vivid flickers of memories of Mindoir. All she saw was Elysium crumbling around her, too many people panicking. She grit her teeth at the audacity of the Terminus Systems hitting such an established colony. Surely they didn't expect to get away with it…

…but like anyone with an ear to the pulse of galactic workings, Shepard knew if they did not make the invasion pay dearly in men and material here, now, they'd get away with it. The Council wouldn't want to risk prompting the scum in the Terminus Systems uniting against a common foe.

So, make them hurt while they were in reach. Shepard's heard banged in her chest, but her mind remained icy calm. There were other soldiers—somewhere—and teams of civilians pulled together as haste and chance permitted.

He was law enforcement. "I can see that! What the hell!" He caught a nonhuman moving at an angle to them, four-eyed and ugly, leveled his pistol and opened fire.

Shepard popped up again, fired and ducked back as retaliatory fire zipped overhead. At least she hit them more often than they hit her. So far, she was uninjured. "Did you get him?"

"Yeah, I got him!" The officer gaped at where the batarian had fallen.

"Good!"

All through the air the sounds of screams, of panic, of shotguns and rifles answering the zipping, searing sounds of batarian blasters.

"Come on!" She yanked on the officer's arm, prompting him to follow before lying low to the ground, checking whether they were clear. Clouds of dust roiled overhead, kicked up by dropships mingled with the smoke of structural fires. "You're going that way!" She gestured up the street. Her heart lurched. "…can you hear that?"

The officer nodded, unable to distinguish the difference in sounds Shepard apparently could. He was amazed she could pick out different factions, with the cacophony ringing in their ears, bouncing off buildings.

"You get your ass back that way! They're Alliance!" Shepard's throat burned with all the much in the air, her eyes watering from irritants. Yes, the smart marine carried a proper weapon and their sidearm, but what she wouldn't give for a couple grenades!

"How can you tell? And where are you..."

"I know an Alliance rifle when I hear one! get your ass moving!" Shepard, heartened, opened fire again.

"What about you?"

"I've gotta get to the tower!" She pointed to one of the few tall buildings still relatively undamaged, this one with a communications array atop it. "Go, go, go!" Shepard popped up, unloading her shotgun as she strafed sideways towards the next patch of cover, the inside of a doorway.

The idiot followed her. "Why…the tower?" he panted.

"My omnitool hasn't got the range I need! 'Go marines' …crap!" Even if the officer couldn't tell, Shepard could: the Alliance was retreating. Pulling back in order to reform, leaving her six dangerously unguarded. "Where's that batarian you hit?"

"Should be in the alley…"

"Stay here!" Shepard let off a few more shells, profoundly grateful shotguns had evolved from their distant ancestors. Otherwise they'd be ridiculous in combat. But her ammo block was getting low.

Shepard located the body without getting her head blown off. Sergeant Urban Combat would be proud. She stripping his weapons and ammunition, as any good soldier would, before slinking back to cover, where the officer obediently waited for her. "What's your name?"

"Greg…"

"Great…" Shepard checked the rifle taken from the batarian. Obviously scavenged, or purchased through the black market, the assault rifle was as familiar to Shepard as her own hands, being Alliance standard-issue. "Take my shotgun. And the shot." She pushed the weapon and ammunition into the officer's limp hands. "Change of plan...Hey!" She slapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his blank-eyed stare. "If you don't listen up, you're gonna die! Frak! Stay with me, here."

Shepard peered out of the doorframe, opening fire. Keeping Greg behind her, Shepard led him through the back of the building, a restaurant, to judge by the implements. "You're going to have to cover me; aim high so you don't take my head off. Show me."

Greg pointed the shotgun.

"Aim high," Shepard's voice softened slightly as she gave the barrel a nudge with her hand. "High, okay?"

"Okay." Greg swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Shepard.

"Frak, I'd love a couple grenades…" Shepard growled.

"You…" Greg's voice broke.

"Just stay with me, and keep the barrel high.

"You really do this for a living?" Greg gave a feeble titter of nervous laughter.

"I do this for a living." Perhaps not true the way he would interpret it, but first in, last out, was the team motto, after all. And from the sound of things, the decrease of fire and the near absence of Alliance-sounding arms, Shepard knew two things. One, she had to get to the tower. At the very least she could hack the broadcast net—if it was still up—and do her best to run a weapon-shorting signal through it from her omni-tool. Two, there was currently no way out. If the Alliance ships weren't blasting the dropships, or punching up the larger ones in orbit, there was a reason why.

No way out. Greg didn't need to know that. The Alliance would never abandon Elysium.

Shepard's cool, calm clarity reinforced Greg's wavering fortitude. He charged the shotgun, pale-faced but resolute. "I'm right behind you ma'am."