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The handful of frigates, and their destroyer escorts, made the journey relatively quickly and easily. With the Coalition still pushing from the bulwark that was Omega and all along the Coalition battle line, their smaller task force's progress went largely unmolested. At first, they were escorted by a heavy fleet tasked to relieve a Terminus colony recently fallen to the Reapers, their mercenary protectors pulled away to participate in the siege of Omega without care for the defense of the worlds in question. Aria had demanded they come to do what she ordered and either not considered or been apathetic to the consequences.

An apathy that had resulted in numerous fringe worlds that had been holding against the smaller Reaper task forces falling in short order. Task forces that were far too busy dealing with the dreadnoughts, carriers and other assorted warships trying to liberate the occupied worlds from the Reapers to care about a handful of relatively small ships skirting around the system's edge. Which meant they were safe enough as they sailed, even if watching the lances of red carve apart the allied fleets stirred up memories best left forgotten. Memories that were both his own, and not, owing to his two Bonded and all they had seen.

None of which he wanted to deal with, and so he busied himself preparing for the coming mission.

Instead, he preferred waiting in the portside fighter bay. A long but somewhat more squat bay which had been heavily modified with three large rail drivers which would raise and fire out the open sides that the fighters used for launch. Inside each of these little railguns sat more of the Coalition drop pods, loaded down and ready for launch at a moment's notice. One bore his Krogan insignia and he spent most of his time beside it at a table he had 'borrowed' and pushed against the bottom of the hull so he could have a space to work at. He'd even brought a cot up and set it at the head of the table, tucked into the corner that his pod launcher made with the wall at their end of the bay. Sleeping out of quarters was, of course, against the regulation handbook.

The same handbook that also disliked him using the Harrier, so he felt more than comfortable to flaunt those particular pages of the rulebook altogether.

"I-I, um, got your helmet, Lieutenant Commander." The anxious little deck assistant said as she approached him, the little helmet clutched in her hands like a lifeline. Still anxious, she held it out for him and explained, "The feedback system that predicts and adjusts for light input was damaged. That's why it did what it, um, did."

"Thank you." While she'd worked on that, he'd been working on the rest of his gear in the portside fighter bay.

He hummed as he adjusted the helmet on his head and ran through the VISR system's capabilities. Once he was satisfied he let the system run on automatic and depolarized the visor itself, turning to talk to the young woman, "It works like new, Miss Beau. The helmet even looks newer than it did before."

"I-It should!" She smiled, pale face stretching in a wide and pleased smile. Hands wringing anxiously, as the woman seemed unable to ever really calm down and relax for whatever reason, she explained, "I replaced the damaged plating section with a special composite we use on our atmo-fighters and light infantry dropships. It's light, but hard enough to deal with small arms. I painted the whole helmet in a fresh matte black for you and redid the Krogan coloring to make it look good."

"You didn't have to do that…"

"I wanted to." She nodded, smiling pleasantly and turning to look up at the pod he was sat beside. "I'm not that confident, I'm always scared in space because… You know, cold vacuum of nothing, lungs yanked out through your teeth, and, um, a-all that."

"Ah." That explained why she was always so anxious then, he suspected. A fear of space travel, and yet she chose to serve in the Navy. Where the dark of space was the only place she could really expect to be deployed. Curiosity overwhelming him, he sighed, "That's understandable. But if you hate space so much, why join the Navy?"

"Because of the Reapers." She answered with a little shrug, grimacing guiltily and going on quietly, eyes down like she expected him to snap at her. "I was, um, never one who believed the Commander back after the Citadel was attacked by the Geth. And then when the Reapers really showed up, I… Felt I owed it to her to do something. So I enlisted."

"And since the Alliance and Coalition use tests to determine where to station people, you got sent into the Navy." It made sense and, in a way, was kind of sad at the same time. "At least you seem to be being stationed on safer deployments. The Everest before and now with the little fleet sneaking around. S'pretty good luck."

"I mean, not really. Luck isn't involved all that much…" He raised his eyebrows at the quiet words and the woman flinched, waving her hands in front of her rapidly as though to wave away the words themselves. "I-I mean, um, it's personal, and nothing bad, but… But I don't get these assignments for luck. T-That's all."

"Mhm." She was anxious and hiding something, to be sure. And his curiosity was raging for it, but… It was none of his business, really, beyond worries about Cerberus. But then, he was certain that Admiral Hackett wasn't exactly being lenient with security and background checks. Shrugging, he assured her, "I'm not one to pry where people want things to be left alone. Unless they're on the wrong side of my rifle, at least."

"Yeah." She snorted, actually seeming to relax a bit and letting herself chuckle. "I will… Try to stay on this side, then. Unless, you know, the Reapers offer a better retirement package o-or something."

"I hear it's pretty killer, yeah." He shrugged, taking his helmet back off and setting it on the table while he returned to working on his rifle's internal inertial dampeners.

Seeing him busying himself again, the woman said her goodbye and moved off to get on to whatever task she had to see to next. Namely, judging from where she went, maintenance on one of the rail launchers at the end of the bay. The new technology of the railguns, and that was what he understood them to in essence be, meant that their maintenance and monitoring was more important than normal. Everything was like that at one point or another and while it wasn't a comforting thought, you didn't become a Helljumper while squeamish about something as small as 'virtually certain death'.

He wasn't a Marine, after all.

The rest of their trip passed in a similar manner. Skirting around systems, avoiding Reapers while heavier fleets of varying races and origins fought them, and generally chugging along towards the Cerberus system. All the while he and the rest of the ground crew were busy preparing themselves for what was essentially a colonial invasion. And while their fellows in the other fleets were also preparing for ground invasions, they at least knew what they were walking into more or less.

No one had any idea what Sanctuary would look like after so many bodies and supplies being sent to it. Some suggested the system would be a fortress system like Tuchanka was rapidly becoming. Others felt that it was what the online advertisements that had been circling primarily Human Extranet sources said, and served as a refugee camp of sorts for Humans under Cerberus' protection. No one knew, though, and so all they could do was prepare as best as they could for whatever came. And that meant that they were taking yet another leaf from his, or rather the UNSC's, book.

Partner drop teams inserted by SOIEV pods to recon and assault in tandem to see what was going on down on the planet's surface. And gods, but he didn't like his partner...

"Just sayin', jumpin' out of a goddamn ship in a tin can sounds like a good way to blow up or turn into a spot on the ground." Zaeed Massani, an old mercenary of apparently high enough repute to have once served under Commander herself. An aggravating, scarred, semi-blind old codger if he'd ever met one, who he wouldn't have believed worked for Shepard if not for her memories lodged in his head.

"Rapid insertion means we can be where we're needed as soon as needed." He argued as he once again broke down the integrated scope system and then began piecing it back together meticulously, more running through it for something to do than anything else. And to ignore the horrible music blaring from another Drop Specialist down the line who'd set up a radio. Turian music, apparently... "Point, shoot, weapons on the ground."

"Talkin' about us or our guns?"

"Yes." He answered simply, snapping the scope back together quickly and sliding it back onto his rifle. Giving the man a look in his piece-meal armor he grimaced and asked, "How much are you being paid to be here?"

"More 'n I expected, less 'n I'm worth. Same old same old, even if Jane's good word signs a few more checks for me 'n I might'a otherwise got." The man shrugged, still staring at the rows of railguns and chewing on a straw. Finally he gave the armored ODST a look and asked, quietly, "Say, what's the landin' casualty rate on these coffins anyway?"

"Depends." He answered quietly, recalling the old ratios from boot camp and regurgitating them on automatic. "Ten percent die on impact or in the atmosphere for a handful of reasons. Another ten to flack and bad landings, either crushing on impact or landing where the soldiers can't get out of it."

"Damn…" The man whistled, shaking his head and snorting in a grim sort of amusement. "And you crazy sons just hop on in and fall on down?"

"Feet first into hell." He nodded, collapsing his Harrier down and sliding along the table to set to work on his Krogan knife. A knife whose handle needed rewrapping which gave him time to keep talking, since the mercenary seemed so set on bothering him. "And we don't pick which hell our feet end up in. Not our job."

"Yeah?" The man cocked his head, looking at him with his only good eye and frowning so deeply it warped his entire face into something more akin to a Gargoyle. And a Gargoyle that had been shot once or twice at that. "And what's our job then mister 'ours is not to question why'? 'Cuz it sounds like our job is very expensive suicide with a side of gambling. Isn't that right, lil' bit?"

"T-The odds aren't really that bad." The mechanic said from her position on top of his pod, the front open while she checked the seals for the last time. She'd of course already checked, as had he, but anxious and bored ahead of a coming fight, she'd decided to recheck them in the eleventh hour. Scowling she added, quieter, "And don't call me that! My name is Staff Officer Beau to you, mercenary."

"Yeah, but you don't stammer so much if I piss ya off." Whatever counter the woman would have had died as the ship shuddered and the bay's lights shifted. All along the deck, ready green lights flared to life brightly. The radio died as Zaeed stood, looking around, "That ain't good… Thought you said we weren't gettin' in those deathtraps for another hour."

"We aren't." Doe answered, slamming the knife home and frowning. The ship shuddered a second time and the lights flickered, an alarm ripping through the ship as pilots began scrambling into their fighters wherever space had been left for them. Grabbing his Harrier he looked up and shouted commandingly, "Beau, catch!"

"Catch wha- Oh my lord!" She scrambled but managed to catch the blocky, collapsed rifle. Apparently getting the idea, she turned to slot it in and next caught his M7 when he tossed it up to her. Grabbing his spare ammunition and sliding them into his storage he started climbing the ladder up while the woman called down and Zaeed ran to his own pod, "I-Is that all you have to- Oh, you're up here."

"I am." He confirmed, sliding by and stepping into the pod as the ship shuddered violently. She stood on the top to try and get around him and toward the ladder, and he watched her, "Be careful, Miss Beau. You don't want to fall."

"Yep!" The woman nodded, watching her footing and waving him off, "I got it."

Down the line, the armored exteriors of the hangar bay opened up. Atmospheric barriers kicked in to keep the room pressurised, but the Alliance interceptors docked in the ship shot out without any problems. Overhead, another alarm began to scream a 'brace' warning a moment before the ship shuddered violently. So much so that had he not stood and reached out, snagging the woman by a fistful of her uniform's front, she would have fallen. Whatever had hit them, the ship groaned and its lights flickered and died, emergency lighting taking over as the alarm died.

"All crew to last stations or abandon ship." The ship's intercom sparked, only just carrying over another violent quake. Whatever had been hit, and by whatever, the intercom came out staticy and weak next. As though something key in the system had been damaged, but not severed wholly. "Drop units to -r pods. Emergency laun- will occur -all pods in -minutes along- -de oe- Pro-! We are facing -per contacts! Re- -t -per contacts!"

"Oh lord I-I have to-" Beau tried to yank free but he didn't let her and, panicking, she grabbed his arm, "Let go, I have to get to a lifeboat before-"

"There's no time." He grunted as the ship shuddered once again, the bulkheads over several hallways towards the front of the ship suddenly slamming down. She pulled once more but he pulled harder, yanking her down and over his shoulder as the ship shook. Kneeling and letting her slide off he explained simply, "The nearest bank of lifeboats are one hundred and fifty yards from here, and bordered by the mess area. By the time you could even get there, assuming the ship weren't destroyed, they'd all have launched."

"B-But these are made for one person!" She argued, face rapidly twisting in panic as the ship shuddered and another alarm ripped through, warning them that the ship was about to go down. Another sound chimed and the pod lifted, door sliding forward and closing automatically, forcing the woman down and into his arms. "W-Where do I even- Oh god, it's so small! I-I can't-"

"Breathe." He ordered, taking his seat and dragging her onto his lap. While he strapped them both down, he ordered, "Run it through before you panic, soldier. Is the pod atmo-sealed?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then take a breath, calm down, and stop wiggling." He growled, both hands working to adjust her into a more secure seat on his armored thigh and then strapping them down. At his barked order she stilled finally and he sighed working on checking his gear as the ship trembled and the pod locked into place. Satisfied, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest to hold her still, reassuring her, "We'll be fine. We'll launch and hit the dirt, and I'll protect you."

"Y-You will?"

"Of course." She was a noncombatant, not trained or equipped for combat, so it would be hard. But, "If you follow my orders, trust me, and don't panic, then we will both come out of this with our heads on our shoulders. I've been deployed against far worse than whatever we'll see down there. Can you use a sidearm?"

"Y-Yeah." She nodded against his armored chest, the ODST only able to see it for the hair obscuring his lower vision shifting. "Self defence classes in case… Yeah we, um, we learned to use Predators mainly. But I don't have my- God!"

As they launched she screamed, descending into a fit as the little metal pod was launched forward through the kinetic barriers of the ship. Inside a heartbeat, the pod's trembling ceased and they were left spinning through the vacuum. This made the small woman panic, her fear of the vacuum of space coming to the fore, and he pulled her against him more firmly for it, pinning her against him so she couldn't accidentally pop the hatch ro fire the thrusters. Both of which would likely have killed them.

Around them, the battle continued, interceptors and Oculus fighters screaming through the vacuum and ripping each other to pieces while a trio of Reaper destroyers and as many frigates tore apart their small fleet. Behind them the world was lit by blue fire that cast their little pod in the stark, pale whites and blues of a warship's death. Their masking torpedoes and fellow pods sailed under a Reaper destroyer as they passed, some of the former slamming into it to as little effect as could be expected. The rest, and almost all the pods, though, sailed on towards the somewhat distant planet.

What they'd see down there, with the Reapers in-system, he didn't know. But whatever was down there was in for a new hell if it thought it would hurt the trembling woman crammed into his pod with him. Shepard would kill him if he let anything happen, after all.

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"Once the task force reached the system, the Reapers were on them. A small force, but then, so was ours, and one of those sides had surprise on their hand." And, much to Hackett's regret and dismay, it hadn't been theirs. That his intelligence officers hadn't known that there were Reapers in the system galled him, and he'd already set to work finding out how that had slipped their net. "The nearest fleet of the kind of tonnage needed to move in without wasting the ships is a week away, and moving them would compromise a planet's security."

"And we can't compromise a planet's security for however many of our people are alive." Shepard nodded, voice frosty even through the distortion of the QEC's audio synthesizer. She wasn't hurling insults, though, so he counted his lucky stars and simply nodded. "Why are you contacting me then, Admiral?"

"Because according to the last transmissions they were enacting the Doe Protocol and the Groundfall Protocol." He answered cleanly, glad to be able to offer at least some good news to balm the overall wound. "They dumped all their logs to hide their orders, set their reactor to hit the Reapers, and ejected their drop pods and lifeboats towards the planet along with a flight of torpedos, dumped trash- Everything they could use to mask their purpose and get as many crew planetside as possible."

"The Doe Protocol?" She chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm sure John liked that particular name.

"Couldn't exactly call it the 'Cole Protocol' and have it make any real sense, and the gist of protecting information was too good not to." Hackett shrugged, "And it was his idea, at least in principle. The name is kind of apropos, too, given we mask information about ourselves in the process. Like a 'John Doe'."

"I suppose you have a point." She shrugged, too icy at the moment to be willing to talk. He couldn't say he didn't understand why, of course, but still. Instead, she prompted him, "What are my orders then, Sir? I'm assuming leave on the Citadel is being put on hold."

"Complaining?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Not at all, if it means pulling my crew out of the fire."

"I thought as much." He didn't need Doe's special access to her head to know how the woman was, nor Anderson's more personal involvement in her life. Instead, he banked on his instincts when it came to his soldiers. "I'm ordering you and the Normandy to move on Horizon as fast as possible. Coordinate with the fleet to arrange a supply pickup point en route, I want you headed directly there at all speed. Find out what Sanctuary is, and get our people out of there."

"Priority?"

"As high as you make it." Hackett answered instantly, already expecting the question, "I'm writing you a blank check on this one. You get there and order the Coalition Fleet in and damn the Terminus, I'll pull every single goddamn one of my ships off the line and into the system."

"This mission is that important?"

"It is now, Commander. I was wondering why the Reapers seemed not to give a damn about us hammering the Terminus, and now I find out there's a fleet over some random backwoods Cerberus colony?" He shook his head and pursed his lips, making clear just how displeased he was about this turn of events. A sentiment that Shepard seemed to mirror, judging from her deep frown and angry scowl. "Get there and save whoever's left. Find out what was going on, and call in the cavalry. I'm already maneuvering one of the new special task groups to be ready."

"The orbs?"

"Yeah, Commander. The orbs." As creepy as they were, and as much as he didn't like letting the Reaper's makers go scott free after everything, but for now they were too effective a weapon to not use them. Thankfully, the Creators seemed more intent on revenge than self-empowerment, directing Reapers under their thrall into suns after they'd exhausted their use and the orbs began to lose their hold on them. "I'm issuing you one in your supply as well, Commander. Don't use it unless you need it. We only have so many of them, and they're hard to manufacture."

"Understood, Admiral." She nodded, already impatiently tapping a foot she likely thought he couldn't see. "With your permission I-"

"Yes, go, pull their asses out of the fire and find out what is going on down on that planet." He chuckled, dismissing the call once the woman nodded her understanding of it.

Turning, he took a deep breath and left the room, ignoring the gentle quake that went through his ship as the dregs of the Cerberus transport fleet they'd run across fired into the Everest's far more potent barriers. Such a fight wasn't one he was needed for, luckily, which meant he'd been able to make his call without worry. Nice in that he had been able to get more done, not nice because he'd had to risk pissing off Shepard.

That anger, for now, seemed to be aimed squarely at Sanctuary now. And for that, he was only able to sigh in relief.

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I have my own YT channel set up now under the same name as here. By the time this chapter goes up, there will be a handful of videos up. Feel free to check it out and hope you enjoy what I got here and there. Have a good one~!

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Whippygecko :

I have an upload schedule listed in a channel in my discord, yes.

Chance (Guest) :

I don't know what you mean, I'm sorry. Could you name the characters in question?

.1 :

I haven't actually considered it? I dunno. Probably a good number, though. XD

Predator :

I… Hadn't considered that, actually. May I ask why?

Spartan 10007 :

Glad you liked it!

Ghost titan :

Trying to avoid such because I have a habit of making OCs since I would wanna murder 'em. Zaeed would make sense, though. Hmm…

Enji benjy :

Nope! Made a good ol' fashioned whoopsie doodle. Also, it's not a scouting mission, it's a seek and destroy mission.