AN/: Hi everyone!

This project is the synthesis of many years of reading countless books and repeatedly failing to write a squad-based combat memoir. If you look in my profile, you'll see that I've primarily focused my efforts the past few years now on writing Ace Combat stories. But the appeal for me in that area has significantly faded, and after desperately searching for an series that could help me accomplish writing the story I've wanted to tell, Mass Effect finally appeared to me as the answer. I've played the original trilogy for over a decade now, and still find new aspects of it that I enjoy every time I replay the series.

However, after seeing the thousands upon thousands of Commander Shepard stories on this site, I decided that I would take a leap and tell a new one. Specifically, a Turian centric one. The Turians have always been fascinating to me, and I felt that a story from their perspective during the Reaper War would be a really fun and interesting twist. The Codex entries and news reports concerning the War on Taetrus really piqued my curiosity and I knew this was something I wanted to include as the background for the main characters involved. Naturally, with the Reaper War, Commander Shepard will show up, just in a minor, rather than a major role. Of course, I can't say I'm the greatest expert on all things Mass Effect. I have made some decisions about how I think things would be in a fairly realistic scheme of things. Of course, you may disagree with my opinions and choices, and that's fine.

Because, first and foremost, this story is really a love letter to all the great war memoirs I've been fortunate to read over the course of my life that have profoundly impacted my outlook as a person(a list of which can be seen on my profile page). This story is also a tribute to those who have taken that higher calling upon themselves, several of whom I owe a great debt to for sharing their precious time and experiences with me.

I hope you enjoy the journey.

Stay frosty everyone,

Esquire 6.

"Necessitas etiam timidos fortes facit. / Necessity makes even the timid brave."

-from the Bellum Catilinae by Gaius Sallustius Crispus

This book was published in 2196 CE, to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the end of the Reaper War. Although not widely circulated at first, the book was lauded by veterans of many conflicts for its honest depictions of combat and how the war affected individual soldiers. Caenus Pius, a former Turian Blackwatch soldier, writes a sweeping tale, from first contact with the Reapers on Taetrus with the desperate defense of Forward Operating Base Hadrius, to his later exploits in the war, and the final battle for Earth. Despite his stark determination to include classified operations, which did make the final cut, the Turian Hierarchy quietly approved of the novel due to its popularity among Turian troops. Even Garrus Vakarian, a long-time partner to the legendary Commander Shepard, commented himself: "I can think of no better way to gain insight on the world of the Reaper War than to read Pius' 'I Remember Something'.

Note: This version of the book has been revised for the benefit of Alliance and Human readers. Time and measurement units have been adjusted accordingly and are all in Alliance units unless specified. Other versions can be bought both virtually and physically through Epsilon books or wherever fine non-fiction memoirs are sold.

Introduction: Forget Everything and Remember

It feels as if centuries have passed since the Reaper War already, even though it's really only been about ten years since it all ended. Of course, the Reaper War was a lot more than just a simple shooting conflict on the edges of space. It's hard to contemplate in peace-time just how desperate an all-space invasion is, where every home-world is under some measure of pressure from enemy forces.

But that's exactly what the Reapers did. From day one, everyone was pretty much under threat, and each party was desperately trying to get help for themselves at the expense of each other. Of course, I was not Commander Shepard. I was not the one who united all the races of the galaxy to create the largest fleet any of us had ever seen. I was only a small, minuscule part of that success.

Turians now and during the war call me a hero. To this day, the title feels misplaced to me. For Turians, carrying out the actions I did was expected. There were no large debates about what to do when the Reapers hit Taetrus and were bearing down on the Forward Operation Base I was stationed at, with minimal and disappearing support. Fighting was our only option, and little did I know at the time, success in fighting the Reapers was rare. And although I would be hard pressed to call what happened a success, sometimes survival in itself is a victory of a rare form.

Of course, the Forward Operating Base I defended on Taetrus to this day is still mostly classified. A lot of the data and communications that were intercepted through the base is held under lock and key by the Turian Hierarchy. I'd like to hope it would all eventually come out, but for my people, that's highly optimistic thinking. We prefer silence to the noise and clatter of infighting.

As for myself and my squad, we are the elements of FOB Hadrius that have come into light of common knowledge. Although the Turian Blackwatch is something kept under wraps, all of us who survived the whole ordeal have grown much more willing to discuss what happened during the war. We'd like to think that we are the pride of the Turian ground forces, and to some extent that is true. In a recent roundtable event that I participated in with other surviving veterans of the war, several individuals, across a broad spectrum of races and militaries expressed profound gratitude for what my unit did to help. I reiterated my belief that such a conclusion was over-emphasizing our importance, but my humility has been challenged, I must admit, after facing constant praise for several years now.

But I have faced my fair share of detractors. Some have expressed anger at uncovering painful, graphic, and traumatic memories of soldiers who have passed. Turian ways order our silence over the lost soldiers on the battlefield. And while I somewhat agreed with the policy during the War on Taetrus, which I participated in as a young lieutenant, I grew angrier with the policy over time. Especially following the Reaper War, I grew more upset after being forced to sit on my story. Luckily, through the help of some incredibly kind individuals, including some of my fellow Blackwatch veterans and even Garrus Vakarian himself, I was able to get the platform I needed to tell my story. I am eternally indebted to these wonderful brothers-in-arms for their assistance in getting this work published. Without them…I'm not sure I would be speaking through these pages to readers…or to anyone for that matter.

Although the Hierarchy is probably shaking their heads at my above denigration of their policy, I will admit with no hesitation that I owe them and the Turian military a great deal for what they provided me. Invaluable training of body and mind, comrades of an exceptional caliber, and above all else, a life. I didn't make much of myself prior to the rite of passage that is boot camp at age 15. I wouldn't have traded it for anything else. Despite the suffering and all that goes along with war, it gave me a very unique platform to tell a story that I find myself solely capable of telling.

But, I should speak about who I am so the story is not as confusing.

My name is Caenus Pius. At the beginning of this whole story I was a recently promoted Captain put in charge of the defense team of FOB Hadrius, located in the rocky hills just outside the Diluvian Highlands, which was the primary battleground of the War on Taetrus. The war was essentially a separatist movement wishing for autonomy against the Turian Hierarchy, which was jump-started by a terrorist attack by the separatists on the capital of Taetrus, where a ship was sabotaged to crash into the city at full FTL speed, killing untold thousands. The Facinus faction claimed responsibility, and the colony government, backed by the Hierarchy, went to war. There was a quite a racket made by the human press who defied Turian governmental restrictions on broadcasting images of the battlefields. Much of the human press deemed our war "barbarous" and seemingly waged with no regard for civilians. The response that many of our soldiers gave to the other races was this:

There is no such thing as a turian civilian.

For many who were in the Reaper War, the War on Taetrus was where many of us sharpened our talons and skills in war. But it was hard for many of us, some, including myself, knew colonists who were fighting with the Facinus group and actively trying to kills us. But as Blackwatch, who had already experienced hostile domestic terrorists and other unsavory elements on Palaven, we kept our mouths shut and fought. But the scale of Taetrus campaign was enormous.

The whole of the Diluvian Wildlands became a graveyard for many Turians of both sides. By the time of the Reaper War, the wounds of the war hadn't quite fully healed. Animosity was especially felt due to the six-ton thermobaric bomb that was dropped on the Kasatum Fortress, the last holdout of Facinus forces on the planet. From where FOB Hadrius stood on an outcrop overlooking the Wildlands, you could still see the crater and the ruins therein of the destroyed fortress. It was a sobering reminder to everyone of the horrors and destruction of war. It was true that Facinus had brought such a wrath upon itself. I would hardly call its tactics endearing, but it was smart in showing they had a power to strike at the heart of their 'enemy'. Although their tactics were relatively hopeless due to their numerical and technological inferiority, they held out much longer than many expected.

As for FOB Hadrius, the base was downsized and relegated to relative isolation and secrecy following the official declaration of the end of the war in 2185 CE. Hadrius was one of the few frontline bases that was maintained and kept relatively active. We were the front line interception post of communication and data entering and leaving the former area of rebellion, as well as the primary point of intercepting and decoding other interplanetary comms. At its peak, FOB Hadrius had about a hundred troops on base, with about a quarter for defense. After the downsizing, there were only 39 left. Out of that number, just four individuals, including myself, were assigned to be the primary ground defense for the base. We did have a gunship and a crew for air support, along with one shuttle for emergencies. But if anything big happened, the base would have to be evacuated with outside help. There was no chance of a prolonged defense beyond a few days, despite the relatively advantageous position in hills.

We were a classified base, yet everyone in the surrounding area knew exactly what was going on. The four of us ground troops that were on station were all Blackwatch. We had been picked to stay for either rest time, since the sector was unusually quiet following the drawdown, and due to our backgrounds on the planet. As for myself, my platoon had been rotated out of the theater a long time ago. However, due to my promotion to Captain, I was still waiting for reassignment to a new command, but following the flood of promotions that came as a result of the war, I was left in relative limbo. For the rest of the squad…I might as well start the real story.

But I'd like to say one last thing before I do.

This story is dedicated to all the soldiers who didn't make it home in the countless wars this galaxy has faced. I hope, to those who read this story, it can give some modicum of comfort to know what our lives were like, and know that just showing up to the fight was courageous, and to fight on after that was the work of a hero. I met countless scores of these heroes in my travels. May their spirits guide my words truthfully and faithfully.

Without further delay,

Welcome to the Had.

Chapter 1: Wilderness of the Mind

"I hate wearing these night vision extensions," a voice crackled over my comms, as I glanced over towards the source, my second-in-command Lieutenant Lucus Albilin. He was standing on the opposite walkway from me, both of which overlooked the base's main gate, with the darkness of the Wildlands stretching far out in front of us.

"Yeah," I replied back, rubbing the side of my helmet, in a poor attempt to scratch an itch, "It feels like a varren is sitting on the front of my face. Sure, it's great if you're in a static position like this, but the weight has got to be trimmed down. Hopefully Armax will release a new model soon."

"By the spirits of this place, I sure fucking hope so," Lucus chuckled, as he lifted up his sniper rifle, a retrofitted Armax Punisher, and half-heartedly took a glance down the scope. "What do they think we're going to see out here anyway, ghosts or something? There hasn't been shit in Diluvia for months."

"Unfortunately we just have to sit around on our asses and hope the Had gets closed or we get transitioned out."

"As much as I like the peace and quiet, Caen, I'm ready to go back to active duty. I'd like to go home and see the family in Palaven for a little bit, though."

"Don't we all. I was supposed to go see my brother and his wife on the Citadel two months back when the rotation call got scrapped. Apparently they had a place scoped out for me to buy for myself."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they sent pictures of it. Not super big, but nice."

"I wish I had such sympathetic siblings."

I sighed, as my vision drifted back towards the plant growth and the Wildlands. I gripped my modified Phaeston assault rifle a little bit tighter as a small heat signature of an animal darted by and quickly disappeared. "Well, my sister-in-law is a human, so that probably has something to do with it."

"Ahhhh," Lucus chimed back in as he walked over towards me, placing his rifle on his back, while it collapsed down to a relatively small size, "You never said she was human."

"Yeah she's from Earth. A German."

"A what?"

"A German."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a place. They sometimes speak an older language that differs from Alliance English. You know what England is, right?"

"I have a vague idea."

"There's a strip of water separating England, which is an island, from a continent called Europe. Germany, the place the Germans are from, is there."

"Huh," Lucus said as he went silent, looking up at me as he leaned down, hands clasped to the rails separating him from falling the five to seven meter drop to the dirt. "I never knew you were so versed in human things."

"I went there."

"Really, when?"

"My brother's wedding was there."

"That's quite the rare event."

"Her parents couldn't afford the trip to the Citadel and all the arrangements. They're well-to-do farmers but not wealthy. It wasn't bad."

"You're a weird one, Caen."

"Yeah…I know."

A few seconds later we both felt a slight rumbling in the air, and Lucus sighed as he pulled out his rifle again. Not a moment later, a matte grey Kodiak shuttle shot by, a bit of a ways over our heads, heading for the Had's landing pad in the center of the compound, behind us.

"Team two, this is Feral actual, a shuttle's inbound over."

"Roger actual, team two is inbound to the pad, over and out," the Taetrian drawl of Lieutenant Pausanias Agocus or 'Pago' responded quickly as the base's interior lights flicked into life, flooding the compound with artificial light. Lucus and I both took off our night vision attachments for our helmets and hopped down to see what the fuss was about.

Now, seeing a Blackwatch soldier in the flesh for the first time, is something, that even for Turians is surprising. No other unit is allowed to go completely black-out for their unit colors. Blackwatch as a whole for the most part disregarded painted camouflage on armor and used Tactical Cloaks for that purpose, for those who even needed that. The four of us on base had added a few white streaks onto the abdomen piece of our armor to distinguish us from other Blackwatch units. I had gone even further and painted fake white fangs on the lower part of my helmet for added intimidation factor, although I doubted it really did anything. The matte black paint was really the major scare factor.

When Lucus and I rocked up to the shuttle, and met with team two, we quickly discovered it was simply a delayed supply run, with much needed food and care packages from home. All of our moods were much improved.

"Hey Vellia!" I called out to the number four of our fireteam, Lieutenant Vellia Macer, who quickly glared from behind her helmet over in my direction, "Package for you!"

I quickly picked up the metal box and walked it over to her, and Vellia glanced down at it, and quietly took it from my hands. "Thanks Caen."

I nodded as I went back to helping the shuttle co-pilot unload. These two were regulars to this compound and were already profusely apologizing for their tardiness.

"We got redirected over the capital, Primarch authorization and everything!" the pilot shouted from his seat at the front of the shuttle, as he was keeping the engines ready for a quick dust-off once we unloaded the cargo, "I'll be early next time!"

Primarch authorization? What sort of shit is getting started now?

"It's fine!" I shouted back, waving his concerns away, "At least you showed up at all!"

"Well, I can't let Blackwatch down now!" the pilot shouted back as the last of the cargo was unloaded, and the Kodiak disappeared back into the sky as quickly as it had arrived.

Most of the other crates had been stowed and secured away, leaving the last two for the intelligence building still sitting there. None of us really wanted anything to do with them since the Intelligence detachment at the Had didn't like us very much, and especially didn't like us handling any of their shit. Being fireteam leader, the responsibility of dealing with said Intelligence bullshit fell to me.

"Fine," I muttered under my breath.

"Long Eye this is Feral actual, over," I radioed as Lucus went back to his post with Pago tailing him to take my spot. Vellia stayed with me as I waited for a response.

"This is Long Eye," the drowsy voice of Colonel Silus Procso answered back, much to my annoyance, "Go ahead, over."

"I've got two containers worth of materials or whatever the fuck you guys ordered in out here. Where do you want it, over?"

"Watch your language, Captain."

Of course.

"Sure. Query is repeated, sir, over."

"You can bring them into the secure room, Captain. Don't worry about protocol, over."

Vellia quickly glanced over to me once the good Colonel had finished his transmission. "Don't worry about protocol? Procso loves an opportunity to chew us up over protocol if we even touch the outside wall of the Spookhouse. Something's up."

"Yeah, first the shuttle pilots mentioning a Primarch redirect and then this. You hear that Lucus, Pago, over?"

"Affirmative Caen, we'll stay alert," Lucus radioed back, "We'll run a check of the perimeter defenses while you guys head in. Should I alert the gunship crew, over?"

"I don't think it would hurt, have them ready to dust off for recon in a little bit. If it's nothing we can just hit the hay and not worry about it, over."

"Wilco, out."

It's nice to have squad-mates who don't bullshit you.

I heaved one of the containers up onto my shoulder as Vellia picked up the other and we headed inside, with some of the Intel staff swiping us through the security doors deeper down into the bunker that was the "Spookhouse". Most of the time, none of us were allowed to enter the secure room or the observation rooms. I was sometimes allowed to enter when I was receiving fresh intel for ground recon missions we would occasionally run to make sure the Facinus group didn't have a chance to resurface. In order for me to do so, I wasn't allowed to have my combat gear or any sort of transmitting equipment inside. I usually bickered enough to get the assholes to allow me to wear my omni-tool. I wasn't recording any of what went on or collecting blackmail material. I didn't care anywhere near enough to do anything of that sort.

This precedent made the total waive off of protocol a bit peculiar. And as Vellia and I advanced further underground into the Spookhouse, we immediately saw why. Most of the Intel officers were rushing around the building and scurrying in a frenzy between rooms. A few snippets I picked up in passing was something about Batarian space being FUBAR.

When we reached the secure room, not only was I greeted by the dark brown face and black eyes of Colonel Silus Prosco, but also five of the most senior Intel officers on the base. After we deposited our containers on the large metal table in the center of the room, one of the other Intel officers secured the room and Prosco quickly unlocked the containers with a few inputs on his omni-tool.

Mostly the contents seemed to be data-pads along with data drives to hook into the secure terminals in the room. As everyone proceeded to ignore us in carrying out their work, I looked over to Vellia who gave me a shrug as she crossed her arms and glared around the room.

"Uhh, Colonel," I coughed out, which made every single Intel officer glare up at me, "What's the situation here?"

Prosco looked over towards his subordinate and sighed, pushing himself up off the table away from the data-pad he had been looking at intently. Both Vellia and I still had our helmets on, but it felt like Prosco's gaze was physically piercing through my visor. "All of Batarian space has gone dark."

"I find that hard to believe," I replied, crossing my arms, "The Batarians are loud fuckers. I doubt they'd have just disappeared off the face of the galaxy without a fight."

"That appears to be exactly what happened, Captain."

My gut dropped.

The Batarians, just pushed aside like a decaying corpse? Spirits…whatever this is…we probably don't stand a damn chance.

"So, Colonel, I assume this is related to the business with the Primarch?" I managed to ask, after getting my bowels back into their correct places.

"That's…correct, Captain. We have reason to believe whatever the source of this outage is, it may eventually spread out far beyond Batarian space. Possibly even here."

"And what exactly might 'it' be, sir?"

"We're not sure at all right now, Captain. When we know, you'll be briefed, as will the rest of your team."

"Well, if we have a hunch that this 'thing' is coming our way, we might want to get the hell out of here sooner rather than later, sir."

"We'll make that decision when it needs to be made, Captain."

"Sure, sir, but we have a tiny fucking dedicated defense contingent here. We won't be able to hold out against any sort of major force, especially if a bulk portion of whatever took out Batarian space comes this way. Not to mention if any troublemakers on Taetrus knows about what's going on and decides to use this chaos to their advantage."

Prosco glared towards me, not angrily, but for the first time, in a seemingly sympathetic way. "We can't just drop everything and run. We'd need to run a base destruction protocol, and that would take up time," he sighed, glaring back at the datapad, which appeared to become less attractive to him the more the Colonel looked at it, "Get the gunship up and prep the defenses. Whatever you want that we have on site, set it up. If we learn anything soon, I'll let you know right away. You two are dismissed."

Vellia and I saluted and we sprinted out immediately after, as one of the officers let us out of the secure room and closed the door behind us.

"Well Vellia, looks like we may get to fight again on Taetrian soil."

"Doesn't sound like Facinus, but I'll take anything at this point."

"Don't let revenge cloud your head, Vellia. If we're hit, clear minds are the only path to survival, are we clear?"

"Affirmative. What's next?"

"I think it's time we broke out the big guns."

The Had was organized in a semi-circle fashion. The primary ground entrance to the base, which Lucus and I had been guarding earlier, was at a direct 90 degree angle due south from the Spookhouse which served as the center and primary command hub of the base. The landing pads were directly in front of the Spookhouse, and most of the crew quarters were dispersed around the complex in a fairly orderly fashion, as well as it could be done with pre-fab buildings and limited personnel.

Defensive positions were primarily stationed on the walls running the circumference of the semi-circle, which were just thick metal plates with scaffoldings behind them so we could shoot above them. This base was hardly prepared for a serious attack. Along the diameter, behind the Spookhouse, was a sheer drop protected by a small rocky outcropping that ran most of the length behind the Spookhouse and to the walls. We weren't too worried about a force trying to move anything up that way, but the rock wall was mined with small explosives, nothing big enough to break the ground up enough to cause a landslide and destroy the complex.

The closest settlement outside the base was a good twenty klicks from our base, and had maybe 50-60 colonists there. Vallum, the capital was four times the distance, and we could, on clear nights, see some of the lights and contrails of ships coming and going. Spaedar spaceport was to the distant northwest, and the ruins of Kasatum were directly east of our position on the edges of the Wildlands. The vantage point was nice, but if an enemy found us out, and it wasn't hard with all the antennas and receiving equipment we had poking up into the sky, we'd be a prime target of artillery and indirect fire.

But at least we weren't down in the valley. It could always be worse.

We waited until we got an all-clear that all personnel had safely recalled into the Had to start our recon in force.

The gunship, a Mantis-type, quickly took off and began a combat air patrol circle with a radius of about 5 klicks. It was mainly precautionary, and they were hardly expected to make contact with the enemy at this point. I commanded the remaining on station ground crews to help us set up two raised hard points behind the wall to mount stationary machine gun turrets on the pre-fab buildings closest by. I had little faith in the scaffolds in holding up under prolonged opposing fire. We had the Kodiak shuttle ferrying pieces and parts to the crews on top of the buildings, while I met up with my team to start planning out our defense pattern. Of course, we had no idea when or even if we were going to have contact, but it was better to have some sort of reaction plan than just blindly smashing into the enemy. All four of us had experienced the pain of poor battle plans and commanders who were too eager to get missions accomplished.

Vellia had suffered the worst consequences of such neglect. She had been part of a biotic cabal during the War on Taetrus, and while she raced back to our lines to report on her unit's deteriorating situation due to downed comms and incorrect assumptions on the placement of enemy fortifications, her unit was wiped out to the last soldier. By the time she had gotten reinforcements and returned to her team's last location, there were only corpses and craters left. She sought a transfer immediately after, and ended up with Blackwatch due to her abilities and combat records. In truth, back when the base was fully staffed, Vellia had been sent to fulfill the more antiquated role of an embedded observer, making sure none of us were making friendly with underground Facinus units. This move ruffled some feathers for sure, but Vellia had "asked" (interrogated is closer to the truth) me from the first day she had arrived to help her with her task, and I tried. I wasn't exactly the subtlest type, so she asked me to help keep watch on people. Of course, she had fairly high authority to do so, apparently Palaven's Primarch had green-lit the reactivation of such a program after the debacle of the war.

As for Pago, he hadn't been subject to very much incompetence at all, due to his role as a support gunner for an infiltrator team of Blackwatch. He didn't talk about it much at all, but Pago had been on the mission to Kasatum Fortress to find out if the Facinus remnants really had hostages with them or not. From the snippets he had given me over time, I learned that the team was given a liberal ability to hand wave away several individuals who appeared to be hostages, by recording audio and conversations, and could eventually be "deduced" to not be hostages at all. Taetrus had been Pago's home for a long time, and when the order came down to bomb Kasatum, he was fairly upset. Command wanted the war over, due to the constant bad press and the high-profile deaths of journalists detained by Hierarchy colonial forces, so ignoring a few hostages was easy enough for them to overlook. I met Pago not long after that happened, when he got posted to the Had, and he had recused himself from any sort of activity besides required operations and work dictated by command. Pago had opened up significantly since then, and became good friends with the rest of us that were stuck here.

Lucus and I had been partners in Blackwatch from our first touchdown in the Wildlands. We were a part of what the Hierarchy dubbed "Dagger Teams". To keep it simple, we were one of several QRFs, or quick reaction forces, that would help stabilize our lines against sudden counter-attacks or ambushes. But it didn't take very long for our teams to become what we called "Battle Bandages", where poor tactical decisions could essentially be bailed out if they threw one of the Dagger teams at the problem. In previous conflicts before Taetrus which I had been in, Dagger teams had been used sparingly and hesitantly. Throwing one of the teams haphazardly into a firefight could be dangerous for both the encumbered friendly force and the Dagger team.

But that changed on Taetrus.

We were used with growing and alarming frequency. We got about three calls every two days to carry out an assisting operation. As they reached more populated centers and the defense thickened, the offensive turned into a bloodbath. Facinus had planned fairly well for their war, and had taken over renovated areas which had been strategically hardened during a prior civil war on the planet. Lucus and I persevered as best we could. Despite easily gaining air superiority, the Hierarchy wasn't quite ready for an enemy that knew its tactics and how it fought. Even though Facinus didn't have a realistic chance of victory, they were going to bleed the Hierarchy, soldier by soldier. If the galactic press had seen the full scale of the devastation, there would have been mass opposition by other races, and Facinus might have been able to get the Hierarchy to come to the bargaining table.

The Hierarchy, however, managed to keep the lid on the situation.

Non-professional resistance eventually dwindled drastically once large population centers were taken. The constant air campaign and the work of the Hastatim quickly made citizens realize how bad the situation had become.

Later in the war, my unit was rotated out of the frontlines, after my commander, Captain Numidis, was killed by an anti-personnel mine not far from Kasatum. This was when Lucus and I were sent to FOB Hadrius.

As a result of all our collective experiences in combat, the defense plan focused on one primary goal.

"We have to keep the opposing forces outside the walls," Pago mused as he glared down at a holographic map of the Had compound in our team room, and typed away at his omni-tool which placed simulated OpFor on the display, "If they break in, the only dedicated hard-point with enough strength to hold for any period of time is the Spookhouse. And to be perfectly honest, once you go in there, you're not coming out. A smart opponent would block us in, suffocate, burn, or just blow us up like what happened at Kasatum."

"I agree," Vellia responded, looking out the window into the darkness of the early morning twilight, "I'd say we mine the incline approach to the base with what we have and try to funnel the OpFor into dedicated killing zones. And this isn't even factoring in how long we'll have air cover. If we lose that, the fight becomes a lot harder. But the even greater what if is…"

"Whether whatever this is brings in close air support," I finished Vellia's sentence grimly, as the map now displayed hostiles in every dimension.

"Do we even have enough ammunition here?" Lucus opined, as he looked back up to me.

"I doubt it," I responded as I looked to Pago, "We can maybe maintain continuous fire with our fixed guns for a few hours, but not much longer."

"Correct," Pago retorted as he highlighted our makeshift defensive positions on top of the houses, "We're going to have to lean on the gunship and our small arms a lot more than I'd like. If whatever hit the Batarians hits us, there's no way we're getting any support besides what's here. Do we know when base destruction protocol will be done?"

"They haven't even started yet. Prosco won't do it until the base gets hit. 'Information is too valuable' and other bullshit," I sighed, as I rubbed the top of my helmet at another developing itch, "Basically it looks like this is a 'Going down with the ship' moment. Unless we survive past completion of destruction protocol. That's the best we can hope for."

"And that assumes we still have shuttles and a way to break out of Taetrian space," Vellia added, as the map zoomed out to a simulated blockade, "I've ran some numbers. The size of a fleet that could just silence Batarian space easily numbers in the high single digits of thousands of ships in conservative estimates, and at the worst, probably nears closer to the high teens of thousands of individual ships. Even if it's not a full detachment that's sent after us, it's going to be hard work trying to break a blockade as big as that."

"I assume the brass is all talking to each other on comms," Lucus said as he loaded a combat bandolier onto his armor, "They have to have an idea on where this thing is tracking right now."

"I've tried asking, Lucus. They've given me no answer," I snapped back, half-heartedly. The mental strain was already starting.

"No worries then, Caen."

"Yeah, in that department at least," Vellia chuckled as our attention turned back to the map of the base.

We all were silent as we studied the surroundings and our positions. Besides our entrenched positions on the buildings, we followed standard Turian protocol for our retreat plan, 20 meter distances between fall-back points, staggered with remote explosives and other surprises in between. We barely had enough supplies to do the job. After a few more minutes of formalizing things, we had a basic plan in hand, ready to go. I forwarded a copy over to Colonel Prosco who simply gave a text response of "Acknowledged".

Now it was time to wait and see if this whole thing would blow over.

"Fucking hell," Lucus whistled, "Let's hope this is just the Spirits screwing with us."

"Alright everyone, keep your communications simple and clear, I don't want it turning into a shit-show if we make contact," I ordered as we gathered all of our combat gear and got ready to head to our respective positions.

After I received three quiet nods in return, we headed back outside into the dark.

Not a moment after we walked out of the team building, we finally got the answer back from Colonel Prosco we didn't want to hear.

"Unknown forces from Batarian space are inbound for Taetrus and the Mactare System, assume hostility and prepare for contact."

Well. It sure can't get worse.