AN/: Back again with a new chapter! It's one of the longest chapters I've ever written, but it concludes Feral team's time on Taetrus. Enjoy.

"A true leader has the confidence to stand alone, the courage to make tough decisions, and the compassion to listen to the needs of others. He does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one by the equality of his actions and the integrity of his intent." - General Douglas MacArthur

Chapter 3: On the Brink

After a very short hop back to the Had, things quieted down a little bit. Lucus continued his over-watch on the approach to the base and couldn't find anything trying to attack us again. Successfully repelling two waves of the Reapers did raise our spirits slightly, but the lingering dread of even more dangerous enemies kept us on our toes.

I went back up to my rooftop machine gun position mainly to make sure Lucus wasn't alone in his thankless task. Vellia, once she returned from her "hunting" mission busied herself with taking care of the crew of Delta 7. Pago returned alone to the other machine gun post and quietly took up the work of repairing the badly beaten emplaced weapon.

We found ourselves still waiting for the "reinforcements" from the Hierarchy. Even though according to Colonel Prosco we still had sporadic contact with Spaedar Spaceport, he wouldn't allow a two-man team to take the casualties on the shuttle to at least try and get the wounded crew off-planet. I understood that it would weaken the defense detachment, but it wasn't as if we would be able to really do anything if we got hit with orbital or close-range strikes from the primary Reaper ships.

Lucus' worries from earlier were burrowing deeper into my mind, sowing doubts I didn't really want to think about, but I couldn't help but consider about the reality of our situation. There was a breaking point where Prosco's stubbornness would kill everyone in that bunker whether he wanted to believe it or not. But rebelling against the order now wouldn't make things any better.

I sighed, glaring back out to the scorched and burnt earth from the firefight. The smoldering wreckage of the Mantis gunship protruded out as the sole obstacle in the kill-zone, and beyond that the shattered and fallen trees around the edge of the clearing were the only reminders of the carnage so far.

"You thinking too much again, brother?" Lucus muttered, lying prone as he continued glaring down the scope of his Punisher rifle.

"That's one way of putting it," I replied as I removed an empty thermal clip from the mounted machine gun, noticing that we only had two fully-charged clips for the weapon left on the building.

"Sometimes, I just don't even know what to think anymore," Lucus grunted as he lifted himself up and took off his helmet, taking a quick swig from his canteen, "What's it really worth to protect this metal eye-sore from a demon space-horde that probably doesn't give a shit about any of the stuff we are supposedly 'safe-guarding' from the enemy by destroying it?"

"I don't know," I grumbled, with my attempts to stay neutral beginning to fail, "That pilot and gunner are going to get a lot worse if we can't get them to an actual hospital."

"But the mission!" Lucus sarcastically shot back, "We have the mission! We can't let our causalities seduce us to abandon our duty to this wasteland! We can't let these useless rocks and dirt fall into the hands of the enemy, sir!"

All I could do was chuckle at Lucus. "How the hell did you get past the selection board, Lucus? You must be the most insubordinate Turian in the history of the Hierarchy."

Lucus shrugged back as he put his combat helmet on, "I ask myself that question all the time. I like to think about that instead of our current wonderful assignment."

I was only able to enjoy a few seconds of silence when the worried voice of Pago came across the radio.

"Uh, Caen? We may have a problem."

"What is it?"

"Look up."

I did, and immediately my eyes widened at what I saw.

It was a massive fireball descending from the outer atmosphere down towards us, and the fireball appeared to be on a direct collision trajectory with the base, or at best very close to it. I had a hunch that this was the Reapers finally getting their act together and playing hardball.

And it was exactly the trump card I needed to get Prosco to the table.

"Long Eye, this is Feral lead, we have a massive object moving in on direct collision trajectory with the Had, appears to be a Reaper capital ship coming in to provide close fire support, requesting permission to begin exfil, over."

"Negative, Feral, hold station."

"Damn it, sir, we are fucking dead if we stay here, I request permission again for an immediate exfil."

"Watch your mouth Captain, your team is not going anywhere until friendly forces arrive to extract us."

"They aren't getting here!" I screamed back, "We are going to get destroyed in a few minutes! You and your precious information will be buried under a pile of rubble and none of this will matter. We need to move now, sir. The time to sit on our hands has long gone."

"You will— "

"I've heard enough of that," I growled as I cut off my radio.

"Way to stand up for yourself, Caen," Lucus said as he gave me a thumbs up from his position, "Are we leaving?"

"Affirmative, pack your gear and let's get the crew to Spaedar and see what we can do."

"Rog-" Lucus attempted to get out before he was cut off by a deafening explosion as the glowing fireball faded into the dark purple outline of a gigantic Reaper capital ship, which smashed into the forest just outside the cleared approach to the Had, sending trees tumbling and bursting in all directions. The ground shook as the Reaper ship used its . . . legs to re-orient itself towards the direction of the Had.

"Oh, fuck." Pago, in two short words, summarized all of our thoughts at once.

"Get off the buildings, move, move!" I shouted. I broke into a sprint and leaped off the building, out of the line of sight of the ship and away from the Spookhouse, hoping that concrete eyesore would be its only target. "Vellia, get away from the shuttle pads, we have ordinance incoming!"

"What about the crew? They can't move, Caen!"

"Damn it, I'm not losing any of you over this! Get out of there!"

". . . Roger."

A deafening roar came from the Reaper ship, guttural and electronic at the same time. The mid-section of the legged-monstrosity opened to reveal a massive hole which quickly illuminated a bright red color. Not a few moments later, a large beam quickly shot out in a straight line, cutting a massive swath through the main gate, down across the shuttle pads and directly onto the Spookhouse. I had buried myself behind a fortified position at about 10 o'clock on the half circle from the Spookhouse about half way between the main wall and the Spookhouse bunker. I still got thrown by the shockwave from there.

The giant laser absolutely ruptured the entire bunker structure, sending concrete and metal flying everywhere, and the communications antennas toppled along with it. I was tossed a good two or three meters away from my position and I landed awkwardly, shattering the visor of my helmet on a large rock embedded in the ground. The glass of the helmet cut into the bridge of my nose and I quickly felt warm blood running across my face as I pushed myself up back off the ground. But before I had a chance to do anything, another blast rocked through the building next to me, and everything went dark.

When I came to, everything was still pitch black. I tried moving my arms and legs only to get a lot of resistance from what felt like rubble holding me in. I strained hard in an attempt to open my eyes but nothing happened.

My mind immediately began to panic.

Am I blind? Oh fuck, I am blind! The blast and shrapnel flying around everywhere must have hit me bad. I'm going to die here blind and helpless . . . shit, shit, shit.

In a reflex, I just began yelling and screaming, straining my trapped arms and legs to try and break myself out from wherever I was. A few minutes later, I started hearing a voice and footsteps getting closer.

And after a few more excruciating seconds, I could finally make out the voice.

"Caen? Caen? Is that you?" the voice, which sounded like Lucus, called from my left side.

Thank the fucking spirits.

"Yeah, damn it, it's me!" I yelled back, "I'm trapped and I think I'm fucking blind!"

"Alright, alright!" Lucus grunted back, as the sounds of moving rubble filled my ears, "Just hang on a second there, let's get you out and see what's wrong with you. Vell, Pago, I found him over on the left side of the Had under some wreckage."

"You should've seen me, Lucus, I face-planted into a rock and shattered my helmet visor when the first blast hit."

"Really?"

"Yeah, definitely not my proudest moment."

"At least you're alive, buddy. Just hang on for one more moment, I've almost got ya."

Finally, the pressure on my body lifted as a loud crash of metal sounded not far away from my head. I felt Lucus pull me up off my stomach, grab me from under my arms, and drag me a few meters over towards what I assumed was open space closer to the Spookhouse. Or whatever was left of it.

"Alright Caen, let's take a look at you," Lucus said quietly, as he sat me up.

I grimaced as daggers of pain shot through my back. "That doesn't feel good," I grunted as I steadied myself with my hands, still struggling to orient myself in my pitch-black world.

"Well, Caen, you do have a lot of blood on your face," Lucus said as he took off my helmet and grabbed onto my head with his hands, "Pretty nasty cut above your nose."

"I do remember the cut. That was from the whole hitting-the-rock . . . thing."

"Gotcha."

"Spirits, Caen," a voice that sounded a lot like Vellia's came from my 3 o'clock high, "You don't look too good."

"I wouldn't know," I snarked back, "I can't see shit."

"What the. . .?" another voice spoke, belonging to Pago who was pretty close to where Vellia's voice came from.

"Yeah, I think I got dealt a pretty bad hand here, Pago."

"Well hold on there, Caen," Lucus interjected as I felt a damp rag pushing hard into my face.

"Hey! Watch it, Lucus! Don't take the rest of my damn head off!"

"Just calm down and wait one damn second, Caen."

All of a sudden it happened. Light came rushing into my eyes and I finally could see everyone. They all looked ok, a bit beaten up with knocks and scratches across everybody's armor, but the helmeted Lucus, Vellia, and Pago all appeared to be more concerned with my sorry state than their own.

"I can see."

I was so astonished that I could barely croak that sentence out. I was so amazed and relieved at the same time about how horrible it was that I lost my sight forever and yet, it had been gifted right back to me. I almost wanted to just throw myself on the ground and pray a million thanks to all the Spirits, but the pain and lots of other things stopped me doing so.

"You had a lot of dried blood from the cut which pooled over your eyes when you passed out," Lucus sighed, obviously annoyed with my moaning resulting in pretty much nothing really that serious, "I'll put some gel on your cut and you should be fine. It doesn't look like you have any shrapnel in your back, so it's probably just some bad bruising. I'm no doctor, but I think you'll manage, Caen."

"Thanks," I answered meekly with a sigh, "How much do I owe you now?"

"Too much," Lucus laughed.

I glanced around and finally got a full view of the devastation that formed what was the Had. All of the buildings for the most part were destroyed, and the Spookhouse had been turned into a still-smoking pile of rubble. Metal and rocks were all over the place, tossed around like toys by the Reaper's heavy firepower. All I could do was shake my head as Lucus slapped a small bandage on my cut. The sky had finally taken on the light blue hues of a bright, full day. The atmosphere felt wrong for sitting in the aftermath of such a devastating attack. In better days, this weather would mean a nice day relaxing and messing around.

But today was not one of those days.

"You hear anything from the Spookhouse?" I asked to my fire team, and for a few minutes all I got back were stares.

"No," Vellia responded, breaking the palpable silence, "There's been no contact. We're on our own now."

"And the shuttle?"

"It's got a lot of the antenna from the Spookhouse on top of it," Pago answered quickly as he unholstered his Revenant, "The Delta 7 guys are ok, a little rattled, but ok. Somehow it didn't take a direct hit. It was just enough out of the firing line. Some luck, I guess."

"How's the engine and the eezo core?"

"It's still somewhat functional as far as I can tell," Pago continued, "It's a bit spotty in providing power though. We can probably get to Spaedar, but we're going to have to operate at some altitude in order to counter-act the shuttle turning into a coffin when the whole thing quits. I don't think it can survive much more abuse and it's nowhere near safe enough to take it off-planet."

"Can we get the antenna shit off?"

"Affirmative," Lucus answered cheerfully, "We've gotten quite a bit off already, but we weren't working at full speed because we were still trying to locate you."

"Alright . . ." I grunted back as I pushed myself up off the ground, the pain quickly returning, "Looks like we have a plan. Sorry if I can't be a lot of help right now lifting all that shit off."

Lucus laughed, "You had a fucking building fall on you Caen, we're not going to judge you. At least not this time."

"Well that's a relief, coming from you," I jeered back as I gave Lucus a slap on the back, "Let's try and get back home."

I got a nod from each of my team as we hurried, or in my case walked, back over to the shuttle pad. Now with my helmet discarded and gone, my battle-scarred and dull silver head was visible to everyone. My grey eyes darted around in all directions as I took up guard duty with my still-functioning Phaeston rifle. I had three large, dark black tattooed lines streaking down either side of my head, meeting under my head fringe to make a triple arch, the mark of the Parthian colony. I felt a little exposed not having my helmet anymore. It made me realize just how much we wore our combat helmets. As much as the protection and the modifications you could make to them were nice, I did find some merit in not wearing them, although the protection factor was an undeniable positive, and had probably saved me from even worse head trauma from my earlier tumble.

I could hear the whine and clashing of drills and saws on metal as Pago and Lucus worked away on the debris lodged on top of the Kodiak shuttle. I couldn't help but stare due south at the line cut firmly into the Diluvian dirt from the Reaper's laser, a deadly display of the monster's efficiency. I couldn't even begin to imagine what such firepower was doing in the cities.

Vallum.

Iratiana.

Madra.

But hopefully not Spaedar. At least not yet.

Vellia came over from the pad and gave me a bump on the back with her clenched hand, which made me groan in pain.

"Not funny, Vell."

"Gotta stay tough, Captain," she chuckled, "If a little back pain is going to stop you now, you're not going to make it through this war."

Even though she had a point, I wasn't too happy hearing it, "Yeah, just wait until you're banged up like me and you won't be cracking jokes anymore."

"I do know, Caen," Vell replied with a sigh, "Look, I'm . . ."

"You don't have to apologize, Vell," I said as I glanced over towards her for a moment, before turning my attention back to the devastation, "I know exactly what you're trying to do and I appreciate it. It doesn't help that I already feel like I let you guys down, but I know there was not much else I could do."

"You did the best job you could, Caen," Vell replied earnestly, "You gave us a chance, even though . . . Prosco didn't give us much of one to begin with. No one would look at what happened and say that you failed. You got all of us through the attacks alive, even the Reaper ship. If I had stayed in that shuttle, there was a good chance I could've gotten killed, even though the Delta guys didn't. So even if no one else says it, thank you Caen."

She held out her hand to me, and I glared down at it for a moment and took hold as we shook hands, "Don't mention it, Vell. We've got a bit of ways to go, but I swear I'm going to get all of us off Taetrus and back home."

"It's a better shot than the one I had in the Badlands. We'll make it, Captain."

I nodded as she returned back to the shuttle as the last of the debris was cleared from off the shuttle. Vell hurried inside and began firing up the Kodiak's power and engines, and the thrusters spat out blue flames as they came to life.

"Hallelujah!" Pago exclaimed as he and Lucus shared a high-five, "Time to go home!"

I shuffled over to the shuttle to join them as I heard Vell shout from inside, "We should get going while it's still working, guys!"

"Roger that!" Lucus yelled over the engine noise, "Caen?"

"Yeah!"

"We've got all of the stuff we could recover from the ready room loaded, ammo, explosives, anything we could salvage. Anything else we need to do before we dust off?"

"Negative!" I yelled back, "If you got all that shit, we should be good! Let's get going!"

"Roger!"

Lucus, Pago, and I all boarded the shuttle and the bay door to the Kodiak slid closed as Pago and I took a seat in the shuttle bay with Lucus taking the co-pilot seat up front. The Delta 7 crew still lay still in the stretchers, which were fastened into the shuttle-bay floor.

"You look a little beat up, Captain," the pilot quietly croaked as the shuttle jolted up into the air, "Did that Reaper have it out for you?"

"Maybe," I replied, managing a chuckle, "I think that thing had it out for all of us today."

Pago grunted in agreement as the shuttle banked in the direction of Spaedar. Now it was only a twenty or so minute flight to the next unknown.

For a few minutes everything felt peaceful. The shuttle was working, the only sound was the rushing of the air and the hum of the eezo core working away. Shit was finally falling our way.

And then it didn't.

In a flash, the lights cut off and the engine and eezo core completely cut out. The shuttle lurched forward and I had to grab on to my seat to stop myself from flying across the shuttle bay into the cockpit. Pago was desperately clinging onto the seat harness bar that was above his seat. The two Delta 7 guys were probably thanking their lucky stars that they were sealed in what were essentially sleeping bags in the stretchers, and were probably a little less stressed than all of us.

"Son of a bitch!" Vell yelled from the pilot's seat, "Reboot the damn system, Lucus!"

"I'm fucking trying, it's totally hosed!"

I then heard a series of loud bangs, as I moved my head over to see Lucus kicking away at something under his seat.

"Is that your shitty plan, Lucus?" I yelled.

"It's the only damn one we have right now, so let me handle it! Come on, you . . . useless . . . tub!"

At last, the lights came back on and the shuttle pulled level, and I could sit back down in my seat.

"See, Caen," Lucus chirped happily, "The old girl loves a good kick every once in a while."

"Shut up, Lucus," Vell answered for me as their attention was turned back to the flight.

Luckily that was the only outage we suffered before arriving over Spaedar, and much to our dismay, the situation looked fairly desperate.

"Caen," Lucus called from the cockpit, "You're gonna need to see this."

Spaedar was a fairly large city surrounded by marsh land, with the Reapers encircling most of the metropolitan area and squeezing the encirclement tighter, pushing the Turian forces back in the direction of the large spaceport in the center of the city. There were some Hierarchy fighters flying around trying to affect some close air support, but the Reapers were still advancing, slowly, but steadily. From our vantage position coming in from the north-east side of the city, we could see there was a lot of ground resistance, and despite the constant fire from the main Reaper ships, the seemingly miniscule forces were holding on.

"Can you get me in contact with the commander on the ground?" I asked Lucus as Vellia dropped our altitude.

"Yeah, hang on," Lucus replied as he worked away on his control console for a little while, and then gave me a thumbs up once he got the right frequency, "It's a Colonel, Colonel Verilus."

"Colonel Verilus, this is Feral team inbound from FOB Hadrius, we are in damaged shuttle and have casualties in need of immediate evacuation, is there anywhere we can land, over?"

"FOB Hadrius? Identify, Feral."

"This is Captain Caenus Pius, Blackwatch, of the base defense team at Forward Operating Base Hadrius from the Wildlands, I'm with my four-man fire-team and two casualties of a gunship crew, over"

"Blackwatch? What were you guys doing ou- . . . forget I said anything. You can land at the space-port, there's a staging area not far from the main terminal. I'll come meet you there and brief you on the situation. Are you trying to get your team and casualties off-planet, over?"

"Affirmative, Colonel."

"The situation is a little complicated, but I'll see what I can do, we have a lot of guys waiting to get out, and we're struggling with the Reaper ships bearing down on us, over."

"Roger that Colonel, we are inbound, over and out."

I sighed as Vellia dropped the Kodiak down to the spaceport. "Well, it's something."

"We still have a shot," Vellia added, "Hopefully it's a good one."

"Think you can get us in without taking damage, Vell?" I asked.

"We didn't come all this way to not find out."

I went back to my seat as Vell pitched the Kodiak into a dive, picking up speed as we hurtled down towards the spaceport. I didn't even bother looking out at the countless rounds that probably flew past the shuttle during the descent. I was past caring about that sort of thing.

My soreness finally began to subside as Vellia touched down the shuttle outside a ramshackle staging area on the concrete runways of the spaceport, now filled with makeshift pre-fab fortifications and all sorts of supplies scattered all over the place. A lot C77 and Jiris IFVs along with M-080 APCs, were getting repairs, and casualties were constantly streaming in from all directions.

"What a mess," Lucus muttered as the shuttle powered down and we began unloading the gear and the wounded Delta 7 crew. A couple of medics greeted us and took the gunship crew off to the medical building inside the main spaceport terminal which loomed large over us now, a dark grey, metal built precisely to form with perfect corners and angles, and reinforced from the civil war with unceasing fire coming from gun emplacements and bunkers on top.

"Captain!"

The shout came from Colonel Verlius, a tall, imposing individual, with bright red armor decked out in urban camouflage with several embedded bandoliers. His face had some fresh scars under his right eye and on his mandibles.

"Colonel," I replied and saluted before we quickly shook hands, "Glad to see we're still fighting."

"If you can call it that," Verilus responded, "I can't believe you made it out from the Wildlands. We thought that whole sector was lost."

"It is now. We got a direct hit from one of the main Reaper ships. Took our FOB out in only a few strikes."

"They're devastating our front-line forces right now," Verilus added dryly, "We can't do much with what we have. Almost all of our armored vehicles are totally out of action, and the fighters we do have can't do much to the Reaper ships except mildly annoy them. I haven't told my direct subordinates yet, but we're probably due to be overrun in a day or two (approx. 18.5-37 Earth Hours)."

Despite the harrowing information Verilus had given to me, he seemed surprisingly calm and for the most part . . . disappointed. He undoubtedly wanted to give the Reapers the best shot he possibly could, and considering the nature of the invasion of the planet, there was never a chance of that being a reality.

"Spirits . . . you said things were complicated about getting people out, Colonel?"

"Affirmative. I can get your team out fairly soon. Blackwatch gets priority, but I can't evacuate your casualties. If we're sending people back, they have to be able-bodied troops for the fight. That's the last order I got handed down from Palaven. I'm sorry, Captain. We lost General Calaninus this morning, so know you are not alone in your pain."

I clenched my fists tightly as I glared down at the ground.

I got them out of the Had to die in Spaedar . . .

"I do have something I would like your team's help with in the meantime, Captain."

Of course he does.

"What do we need to do?"

"The frigate you'll be flying out on is on the south side of the staging area. Reaper forces have been probing the defenses around that part of the perimeter, and we think there may be another attack in that direction soon. If you could bolster the defenses in that area, I can get the ship out clean."

"Just point us where we need to go, Colonel."

He pointed to a decently sized frigate over my shoulder about a klick away from where we were standing, "Lieutenant Sulis is in charge of the defense contingent over there. Tell him I sent you. I don't care what you commandeer to make it happen. If this ship makes it out, it's my one great victory of my career."

"We'll make it work, sir," I saluted half-heartedly and walked back to my team as Verilus nodded and walked back to the terminal in silence.

"Where to?" Lucus asked as he hoisted a few grenade belts over his right shoulder and held a crate of thermal clips under his left arm.

I pointed to my left behind the shuttle to the parked frigate, "We have to defend our ride for a little bit."

"What about the gunship crew?" Pago asked, "Are they going with us?"

I let out a long breath, "Unfortunately, no. Palaven issued a standing order that only able-bodied troops can leave."

For a few long moments we stewed in the silence. Each of us no doubt thought of how severe the fight was now if we were leaving the wounded behind. This conflict was not one of confidence for the Hierarchy.

This war was desperation.

Eventually we unpacked all of our gear and began our trek to the waiting frigate. We walked through the pre-fab military shantytown that the runways and docks of Spaedar had become. We got a lot of looks and second-glances from the regular troops. It was not everyday you saw four, armed to the teeth, Blackwatch soldiers walking by your post. To most regular Hierarchy troops, it was a moment that would almost equate to the Spirits taking physical form and walking by you on the street.

We did receive a few nods and short words of encouragement. But our beaten-up state was no doubt a bit disparaging.

The untouchable soldiers and envoys of death and destruction are scarred and battered. What chance does a regular soldier have if we are in this state?

My mind eventually blanked out as we reached the frigate, which looked like a slightly downgraded version of the once invincible v-winged Verrikan, albeit shorter but a bit fatter overall. This ship was still a sleek machine though.

A gaggle of about twenty soldiers was gathered not far from the tail and I could see why Verilus was worried about this position. The imposing concrete wall that had once safeguarded this area had been destroyed in several key locations and the fortified towers had all been brought down around here. Beyond the walls, it was open dead city, with not a soul traversing the streets or alleyways. There were blast marks and burns from small-arms fire all over the buildings.

Once our gang neared the gathering, a lot of heads turned and many of the troops stepped out of the way to reveal what I assumed to be the pale-brown faced Lieutenant Sulis.

"Lieutenant Sulis?" I barked.

"Yes, sir," the young lieutenant responded and saluted, albeit with some serious hesitation and everyone around quickly followed suit.

"At ease, everyone," I ordered. I could hear the muffled chuckle of Lucus when I continued, "I'm Captain Caenus Pius, Colonel Verilus sent me to help defend this area and the frigate before my team gets extracted off-planet."

"Your help will be greatly appreciated, sir," Sulis said as the rest of what I assumed was his unit headed to their defensive positions, "We don't have long until the crew have the Heraklion ready to go, but we're already down on manpower as it is."

"Have you mined the areas around the breaches in the defenses?" I asked as I gave a hand signal to let Lucus, Pago, and Vellia loose to start their preparations.

"Affirmative, Captain. We've mined about 200 meters out beyond the wall into the city to serve as sort of an early warning system if nothing else. Where do you want us, Captain?"

"You're the expert here, Silus," I quickly answered, "You know this territory better than I do, so whatever has worked so far, keep doing it. My squad will fill in the gaps."

"Roger that, sir," Silus saluted as he jogged off to a sand-bagged crater-hole only about ten meters from where I was standing.

"Alright, everyone," I radioed over the comms, "Keep your heads on a swivel and stay frosty." I walked up through the many craters inside the spaceport perimeter and found one only about 35 meters from the wall to the left of Pago, who had lodged his Revanant down into the ground and had a few Cobra missile launchers lying ready next to him.

"In position," Lucus responded.

"In position," Vellia answered.

"Right with you," Pago replied as he gave me a thumbs up.

I gave one back as I placed my rifle against the ground in front of me, as a sort of crude weapon emplacement. "Colonel Verilus, this is Captain Pius, call sign Feral actual."

"Go ahead Feral."

"I am in position with Silus' detachment awaiting contact. Keep us updated on the Heraklion, over."

"Roger that Feral, I'll keep you in the loop, over and out."

I took the next minutes to focus solely on my breathing, putting everything else out of my mind completely; all I could hear was my mother's voice, a memory long-embedded in my brain from years and year ago.

"Fear is like the breeze. It is nothing if you choose to let it pass you by."

I kept repeating that line, over and over. It was a mantra I had stood by from the very first moment I began training, all the way through to this moment. Every time I needed to focus myself when playing music wasn't an option, my mother's words always did the trick. It always brought me back to home, to growing up on Parthia. Everything else just ebbed away in significance. The scorched and crumbling city-scape before me no longer registered as a battlefield. It was simply another step, another small obstacle I had to get over to make my way home. Or at least, begin the defense of my people's home.

In the mean time, there was this Taetrus shit show to contend with.

The ground began to rattle as Lieutenant Silus confirmed my first suspicions of the cause, "The first mines being detonated, Captain!"

"Roger that!" I yelled back, "When they get in visual range, conserve your ammo and be disciplined! Getting sloppy now means we all die!"

"Affirmative!" Silus shouted in reply as several of his detachment began poking their rifles out of their entrenchments, readying themselves for the first salvoes of the impending firefight.

"Pago, you take the left breach," I ordered over the radio, much more calmly than I had to Silus, "Vell, you take right. Lucus you're our clean-up man."

"Copy," all three of them replied in unison.

I steadied my hand on the trigger of my Phaeston as the roaring and explosions drew nearer.

"Harvester incoming!" someone shouted behind us, as one of the deformed monstrosities made a low pass over us, blasting away at the area just beyond the walls, destroying quite a few of the mines in a large, billowing explosion. I only recoiled a few centimeters from the concussion this time. I was razor-focused on holding my sight on the alleyways and streets, waiting for the moment one of those ugly bastards decided to make himself known.

"Is the Harvester circling back around?" I called out.

"Negative," Lucus answered, "He's bugging out to our nine o'clock. Looks like it was just a gun-run to clear the way, over."

"Roger that."

And to sate our impatience the first of the cannibals finally detonated the last row of mines before the clearing made by the Harvester. Everyone was desperate to shoot at the last of the mines' victims, but discipline kept us waiting, waiting for the next unlucky ones to cross in front of our barrels.

"Contact," Lucus called as a shot rang out from his Armax Punisher, sending a cannibal that was out of my view tumbling down. A few moments later, there were plenty for all of us to shoot at.

Muzzle flashes enveloped the area as the troops began to open fire. The trademark deep report from Pago's Revenant blended quickly into a rapid rolling series of cracks in my left ear. I let my eyes work their ways to my first target which came into my view from the center breach in the wall. I quickly aimed towards the head of one of the all too familiar bloody cannibals and squeezed off a three round burst, staggering the abomination, and then with another burst, sent it collapsing in a gory heap to the concrete. In a moment, I had acquired another cannibal and smashed the running Reaper slave face-first into mass-accelerated hot metal, decapitating it in quick order.

Lucus' firing was slowly increasing speed as the cannibals began flooding into the streets in front of us.

"Pago, use the Cobras!"

"On it! Shot out!"

A rocket slammed into a large mass of Cannibals only 75 meters or so from the wall, turning many of them into red mist, and others found themselves sliced into big chunks of flesh.

"Good effect! Fire again!" I ordered.

"Copy, shot out!"

Another Cobra missile forced its way into the growing horde of Cannibals. At least thirty to forty of them disappeared in an explosion as if they had never even existed in the first place.

"The Harvester is coming back around, ten o'clock high!" Vellia yelled from my right.

"Roger, Pago, hit that motherfucker!" I called as I kept up my fire on the encroaching crowd of Cannibals. In my peripheral vision to my left there was a bright flash as Pago fired the missile up into the air towards the diving Harvester.

"Good hit, good effect on target!" Lucus radioed.

For a moment I felt a little bit of relief, but then I heard, "Oh shit! Take cover, take cover, prepare for impact!"

I threw myself down into my crater-hole, covering my head with my arms as the ground felt like it was breaking and tearing itself apart right under me. The world turned fuzzy, and I didn't dare get up until the shaking stopped. Several agonizing seconds passed until the chaos ended, and I slowly peaked my head up to see the Harvester that Pago had fired at, lying motionless in the road; some of Silus' detachment had gotten out of their entrenchments, and right at that moment, I remembered what had happened the last time we took down a Harvester. I stayed in my hole but waved Silus' troops back, screaming,

"GET BACK IN YOU— "

I hadn't been quick enough. The Harvester's body rippled into a gigantic explosion in the streets beyond the wall, sending the weakened fortifications tumbling down and several of Silus' detachment flying. The Heraklion was barely sitting upright, but somehow it didn't topple.

"How many are down back there, Lucus?"

"At least a third, you guys should take point, they're not going to be able to take the brunt again!"

"Feral actual, this is Colonel Verilus, what was that, over?"

"One of my squad hit and brought down a Harvester, the weakened part of the walls is down over here now. We have a massive swath of territory open in front of us now."

"Damn it! The Heraklion is almost ready, ETA five minutes, can you hold that long, Feral, over?"

"What other choice do we have, over and out."

"Vell," I called, my voice lowering into an angry growl, "With me, to the rubble of the wall! Pago take the right flank!"

"Roger!"

"Grenades!" I yelled to Pago as he tossed me a grenade belt as he ran behind me, which I quickly threw over my shoulder and attached to my chest bandolier. Vellia came up on my left, armed with her Scimitar shotgun, with her Cabal-trademark poison blades on her arms extended and primed for an up-close bloodbath. Vellia and I set ourselves up just behind the peak of a large pile of concrete rubble, poking our weapons over the top in anticipation of another wave.

"I'll take left, Vell, you go center, Pago will pick up everything direct right! Keep an eye on us Lucus!"

"Copy!"

The firing began in earnest again, as the cannibals didn't hesitate to take advantage of what they thought was a defending force reeling from the downed Harvester.

How unfortunate it was for them that they got to play with angry Blackwatch instead.

My Phaeston jolted as I moved from target to target, dropping the approaching Reapers with short bursts.

"Reloading!" I yelled, as I exchanged thermal clips in a fraction of a second, a move rehearsed and honed for many years, executed flawlessly.

But they kept coming, and once they dropped into the forty-meter range, Vell and I began the explosive rain. We lobbed several grenades into the mass, throwing lifeless bodies spinning up into the air and back down to the streets. But even that wasn't going to cut it.

"Let me go, Caen," Vell said calmly as she discharged her Scimitar twice, staggering three cannibals for a moment with the first shot, and killing them with the second, "You know I need to do this."

"Damn it, Vell," I grunted back, "This isn't that simple!"

"Sure it is."

Loading a fresh thermal clip into her Scimitar, Vell disappeared in a flash towards the mob of cannibals, and just when you thought she was as good as dead, the artificial sound of what was actually the slicing of blades filled the air, as the heaving mass of Reaper forces began turning green and were punted into each other, in a chain reaction. For a moment, the scrum cleared where I could see Vell in the middle, holding an impaled cannibal above her head as the poison from her blades splashed down from the now green colored blob. In the next moment, another group of cannibals was sent rolling into each other off in another direction.

As I picked myself up and began running towards the blob and fired into the outer individuals of the growing circle of Reapers, I heard Lucus mutter in shock as a round from his Punisher barely whizzed past me to my left, "And I thought I'd never see the day a Cabal would do that."

But I knew Vellia was beginning to struggle as the circle began to close around her, and her shotgun began to flash in the middle of the group.

I holstered my Phaeston and activated my omni-blades, one on each arm, and began slicing through the cannibals, the super-heated blades making quick work of the Cannibals who were too occupied with the tantalizing prize in the center of their trap.

I was in a frenzy.

I wasn't even thinking.

These were totally subconscious actions.

My brain was not comprehending how and where I would hit the next blob of Reaper controlled flesh. My mind was occupied solely on getting to Vellia.

It took maybe another fifteen seconds, but I got there, and Vell was still holding her own, but was pretty winded. I had cut a pretty decent swath out with my omni-blade work, and I threw a grenade back where I came to keep the hole open for a few moments longer.

"Come on!" I ordered pointing back towards the spaceport, "Your last stand isn't today!"

She nodded as we ran out of the Cannibals. I threw a couple more grenades behind us, expending the last one from the belt Pago gave me right as we broke free and began running back, and a hail of fire picked up once the last of my grenades went off.

Vellia and I threw ourselves on the other side of the rubble, giving each other a quick fist-bump once we were back on the ground.

"Hopefully . . . that bought us enough . . . time," Vellia huffed, taking a minute to catch her breath as I un-holstered my Phaeston and resumed firing at the remaining Cannibals, "I'm getting too old . . . for this shit."

I chuckled, "You're still fucking crazy Vell."

"When I'm not . . . that's when I retire, Caen."

"Whatever," I added as I turned my attention back to the now dead streets of Spaedar. All that remained were bodies. Nothing living walked the sector we had defended.

A few of the soldiers from Silus' battalion were staring in awe at the devastation we had rendered. Piles, piles, and more piles of the enemy on the streets. Blood and guts in the alleyways. Ash and fire on the sidewalks.

When Blackwatch engages, at the end, there are only the dead . . .

"Feral actual, this the Heraklion, we are ready to launch, your squad is instructed to board ASAP, over," a new voice, a clean and less gravelly one than a frontline combat soldier, said over the comms.

Not a soul had moved in the streets following our extermination of the ground forces that decided to come our way. Despite the success, none of us felt particularly pleased. Not only did Vellia and I have to go into full desperation mode, but we all knew deep down this repulsion meant nothing. Spaedar would eventually fall. Nothing we did changed that outcome.

"Roger Heraklion," I responded, lifting myself up from the downed walls of the spaceport, "We're inbound. Colonel Verilus, can you confirm?"

"Affirmative, Feral. Thanks for your help out there. Remember to tell everyone back home we fought for them."

"I will, Colonel." My promise felt cold and unsympathetic, but it was all I could muster. This was our way. Everyone fighting to the end, to the last man, was our way. Simply throwing up our hands and quitting was never an option. Turians would rather die than live in such shame that we had not fought with every bit of effort we had.

As I walked back to the Heraklion, past the roughed-up platoon of Lieutenant Silus, there were no disparaging glares about the special forces getting a ride out while they got left to die. A few gave us their thanks for helping them. Pago and Lucus, unsolicited, gave over the remainder of our supply of explosives to help them in the next defense that was sure to come in the future.

"Thanks for helping us hold the line, Captain," Lieutenant Silus barked confidently this time, "Getting to work alongside Blackwatch before the end is a gift I can never repay to the Spirits of this place. They're listening to us, at least for now."

I held out my hand as I exchanged a final handshake, "And may they continue to listen. Good luck, Lieutenant."

Now the Heraklion was humming with power, poised for a jump into the boundless void of spaces above, and beyond. The cargo bay ramp was open towards the rear of the craft, where Lucus was already waiting for Pago, Vellia, and myself to show up.

"Looks like you're getting sentimental, eh, Caen?"

"Maybe."

We all walked up the ramp to a decently sized cargo bay that was fairly well equipped with the sorts of supplies you would need for a frigate to conduct a full-deployment, weapons, ammo, all the dextro-rations you would ever want, mechanical parts, all neatly stored and stacked in black metal crates.

I looked back for a moment as the cargo bay ramp rose and shut, removing the daylight of Taetrus and replacing it with the artificial light of the Heraklion. That was the last I would ever see of the ground war on Taetrus. It was an unceremonious end to a place that I had lost so much fighting over. Thinking back to then, I felt a bit emotional, which is not much in the grand scheme of things, due to the fact that a Turians' propensity to be emotionally open is about equal to the level that a rock is alive. Even so, I felt torn. I was leaving behind a bit of my soul on Taetrus, a part that, to this very day, has never returned. I believe that was true for all of us.

"So that's it?" Pago said, glancing around at the few maintenance crew members of the ship who were carrying out their duties without a second thought about us. The ship jolted suddenly a few seconds later, and we could feel it begin to climb up and away from Spaedar, the distant dull thuds of warfare fading away eventually to total silence.

Silence.

I thought I'd never hear pure silence like that again . . .

"Looks like it. Not much we can do if the ship gets shot down now. At least it'll be quick if it happens now," Vellia answered with a sigh as she took a seat on the middle of the floor, and started unloading all of her gear and weapons from her armor, "I am desperate for some shut-eye."

"Same here," Lucus replied as all of us followed example, neatly unpacking our gear and weapons.

"I can't wait for some chow, honestly," Pago added as we found a corner of the cargo bay to leave our things. One of the crewmembers, without a word, gave us a nod, as we left our things to head to the upper decks. Right as we reached the main stairway, a navy captain greeted us.

The captain was a decently tall individual with brown and light tanned skin, and dark black eyes, outfitted in his dress blues. His black tattoos were very much similar to mine.

"Another one from Parthia?" the captain said as everyone in my team looked to me, "Well, at least I'm not the only one."

"At least we're alive." I retorted, my voice growling. I don't know why I released a bit of my pent-up anger on this captain, but something about his pristine look after seeing nothing but a sea of destruction made me a little angry deep down.

"Fair enough," the captain said with a cough, "The Admiral is waiting for you up on the bridge."

An admiral? On a frigate?

A short trek up the stairs and a walk down a few hallways led to the bridge of the Heraklion, and it was buzzing. Engineering and piloting crew members were hurrying in and out in a state of controlled frenzy. There was a large galaxy map console in the center displaying the general state of the occupied space above and around Palaven.

Standing above everyone else was someone I didn't expect to see.

It was Rear Admiral Mareus Stilchus. One of the brightest and most decorated individuals within all of the Turian navy.

Mareus Stilchus stood at half a head over most Turians, decked out in combat armor, which was somewhat surprising, considering his station. His plated skin was midnight black, with bright red face tattoos almost fully covering his face in an intricate wave-like pattern. Those tattoos were indicative of the Stilchi family's role in being the primary instigators of creating the Galatana Colony in the Horse Head Nebula on Amaranthine. The Stilchi family to this very day are one of the oldest and arguably the most prestigious bloodlines on Palaven, with countless admirals, generals, and primarchs to their name over the course of Turian history.

Mareus' dark blue eyes could pierce through anyone, and his reputation in the navy compounded that fact. The young Stilchi had a lot to live up to with a well-respected admiral as his father who had served during the First Contact War. He had earned his stripes as a well-decorated fighter pilot and worked his way up the ranks as a trailblazer in developing compact fleet maneuvers and tactics. He had taken part in very public exchange programs with the Systems Alliance, and had even gone to Earth to experience some of the new technologies being developed there for space combat.

When Mareus turned to face us, he looked a bit worse for wear, and more than anything else, tired. The captain took no time in introducing us,

"Admiral, Feral team is on station, as requested, sir."

Mareus nodded slowly, blinking a few times before speaking. "Thank you Captain Quinlus, you're dismissed to your duties."

"Yes, sir," Captain Quinlus responded before walking briskly towards the front of the bridge and what appeared to be the cockpit.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more accommodating upon your arrival," Mareus' deep voice bellowed, "I'm Mareus Stilchus. I assume my reputation has preceded me, much as your team's did as well, Captain Pius." My team and I saluted as Mareus saluted back with a chuckle, "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, sir," I responded, rigidly forcing myself into the position of attention.

Mareus seemed perplexed by our formality, and clicked his mandibles slightly as he cocked his head at us, "Please, Mareus is fine, for all of you. After what we've dealt with today, I find myself a bit tired of the rank charade."

Rank charade?

"I'm surprised you were down here on Taetrus with the tenth fleet burning," Vellia chimed in, her curiosity having fought back her fatigue.

Mareus winced at the comment, "Not by my choice, I'm afraid. I would have been up there if not for the Heraklion suffering a core breach a few days ago that needed to be repaired. Luckily, we were able to fix it after your defense bought us enough time. I'm an admiral without ships to lead. I can't imagine what the bloodbath was like when the Reapers hit . . . I should have gone down with them."

"It's going to be a long war," I sighed, "A long war for all of us."

"Indeed," Mareus replied, "We should be up to FTL in just a few moments, and once that's done, you are free to help yourselves to whatever amenities you wish. There's an empty bunk room on the level below that you all are free to occupy. I asked our quartermaster to leave some rations in there for you, since I imagine it's been a long day for your team, Captain.

And once you all get settled and some down-time, I'd like to speak to you Captain, if you would permit it."

"Certainly sir."

All of us relaxed as we turned and shuffled down the staircase to the bunk room, which took some finding as there were ten of the basically identical rooms, but eventually we found ours due to the rations lying on each of the cots of the relatively fresh, unused room. I cleared my cot and lay down to take a quick nap, as I let the rest of my team do whatever they wanted. As I drifted off to sleep, I finally felt a little bit safe. A wave of calmness swept over me, and everything, at last, faded to darkness.

"Fear is like the breeze. It is nothing if you choose to let it pass you by."

AN/: So . . . a lot has happened, and we inch closer to the beginning of the intersection point between ME3's main story and this tale. Despite being a bit of a long read, I think it helps to establish the bearing down of such a battle on the minds of the team to give a better idea of how taxing long and drawn out battles like these are. There's never really a safe moment until you're away or the battle is done. Mareus is an interesting character as well who will show up from time to time, but there will be more information on that next chapter, which I think you guys will also enjoy. Please be sure to let me know what you all think.

Cheers,

Esquire 6.