AN: My god, 2022. Time flies.

So now that life is done kicking me in the nuts like a Lore Accurate fight between Chief and Locke, I've got another chapter.

-(++)-

"At the end of the twenty-third century, the invention of the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine heralded a new golden age for humanity. No longer confined to our homeworld, we spread among the stars. This year, the discovery of the Mass Relay network and, consequently, the Citadel species, will lead us into a new golden age. One of scientific and industrial breakthroughs, immense economic growth and, perhaps most importantly, peace. Peace, harmony, stability and prosperity. Do not underestimate the advantages of having morally-sound allies. We will stand together, or fall alone."

- Doctor Ruth Charet, President of the Unified Earth Government

-(++)-


Onboard UNSC Pillar of Autumn II

Conference Room

Within the UNSC Pillar of Autumn II, the Turian Hierarchy's Councillor drank a warm UEG beverage, brewed from turian herbs brought in by volus merchants, and he was content.

More than content, Sparatus was calm, reasonable and flexible. Therefore, the UEG had tampered with the herbs and secretly replaced them with a psychoactive drug in order to render him pliable and vulnerable to suggestions.

To Shepard, that was the only logical conclusion and she would stick with it, since the alternative meant that the Councilors from yore had grown sensible and rational. Her mind simply could not handle that idea.

"Reason," breathed Sparatus. "Thank the Spirits. Now then. This alliance. Is the UEG willing to join the total alliance as proposed here, today?"

Fleet Admiral Harper paused for a moment. His expression hardened, and he said, "There are several precautions the UEG will have to take. If I can heed these, then yes, the UEG will join this alliance."

"Precautions? Like what?" Valern asked.

"Ensuring our population's full support for this war means we cannot simply denounce our policies, our ways. This means we cannot share technology or information that could jeopardize our defensive strategies and survival, such as our methods of FTL travel, creation of AI's and other intel deemed classified by our Office of Naval Intelligence."

"We want your aid, nor your identity," said Jane. "As long as your secrets won't end up hurting us in the long term, I think the galaxy could do without learning them."

Sparatus hesitated. "But…think of the strategic advantages that your Slipspace travel, or your Spartan super-soldiers could grant us in this fight!"

"It could prove to be the difference between victory and defeat," added Valern. "I do not think a cost is too high when it comes to the Reapers."

But it seemed Harper would not be swayed. "If we give away our greatest assets, we will lose support for the war. Opposition at home will make full-scale mobilization and a war economy impossible. You need us at our most brutal, our most vicious, and most pragmatic. For that, we need full and public war support."

Shepard guessed other reasons were involved. Perhaps the UEG would not be so hesitant to share their greatest scientific achievements if Sparatus and Valern had been human? Or, more accurately, if they hadn't been aliens. The last thing their humanity needed was another alien civilization with the knowledge and technology to reach their worlds.

Commissioned Officers had to plan for the most likely, but keep in mind the most dangerous. To the UEG, the most dangerous scenario was the Citadel Council teaming up on them. They might not lose the resulting war, but they definitely wouldn't win it.

A deep, growling sound arose from Sparatus' throat. 'Fine, so be it! My people are dying while I sit here and argue!"

"Sparatus…" Valern began. "I think this matter needs more reason, more time to think over."

"We have the time," replied Harper. "The Salarian Union has the time. But does the Alliance? Does the Hierarchy?"

The turian Councillor glared at his salarian colleague as he aggressively sipped his tea. Shepard reminded herself that, unlike Valern, Sparatus had been a soldier before he became dismissive.

"You will have the Alliance's full cooperation," she said. "But with the loss of Arcturus Station and Earth, the Reapers have effectively crippled us. It will take us time to recover from this. Even if we suddenly gained the entire UEG database, it won't do us much good without Earth, or Palaven. And considering we need the full force of the UEG to get them back…"

Shepard let her voice trail off, awaiting the effect of her words.

Valern exhaled quietly. "Very well. Considering the sheer urgency of the matter, I will concede my point. I will await a full list of the precautions you wish to take, so that we may plan for them."

Plan around them, more like, the Commander thought bitterly.

"In the meantime, the salarians stand ready to help in any way or form we can. Our borders are the furthest away from the front. With our stealth ships and support fleets, we can take care of all logistical needs for any theatre the Reapers open up, though I doubt the UEG can make full use of our logistics."

"We can fill in the gaps on our own," said Harper. "With proper coordination with the other races, the UEG can operate with full sustainability for the duration of the conflict, with the exception of manpower."

Sparatus looked around the room, then nodded. "We need to establish a War Summit, to organize all the militaries and governments into this alliance. Now, as I told the Fleet Admiral before you joined us, the casualties on Palaven have been enormous. We have lost much of our command. A series of daring special operation raids managed to restore communications. They…they have confirmed that Primarch Fedorian, the leader of Palaven's cluster, was killed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," offered Shepard. Losing the highest ranking official of your entire species was a devastating blow.

Sparatus scowled. "It gets better. Our lines of succession are clear on this matter; General Adrien Victus is now the new Primarch of Palaven. Victus was last spotted, serving somewhere on Menae where the communications are still down."

Oh, Jane could already see where this was going.

"Does the Primarch know of his new status?" Harper asked.

"He does not," Sparatus dryly replied. "He was the most vocal proponent of a War Summit. I may represent the political power of the Hierarchy, but I know nothing about strategies or command."

Valern nodded. "I concur. We need our military staff to think of a way to combat the Reapers. Only together can we muster an effective defense. The heads of the salarian Navy, Army and Intelligence are already aware of this."

"I will make sure Admiral Hackett knows about this War Summit," promised Shepard.

"You will have the full support of the UEG leadership as well," said Harper. "But what about Victus? Can he be replaced, if he doesn't make it?"

"No," Sparatus said without hesitation. "If we lose Victus, our grand stratagem to defeat the Reapers will be thought up by infantrymen. But right now, the Trebia system is a free-fire zone. A full frontal assault on Victus' position would surely spell his demise, and we don't even have the resources to mount such an offensive."

Sbepard leant back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head. "Sounds like an impossible mission to me. If only we had a unit known for making the impossible happen, or a small ship that could insert such a unit without ever getting spotted."

This time, Sparatus leveled his glare her way. It looked like he wanted to give her a hot retort, but he settled for angrily drinking his tea again.

What did Harper put into that stuff?

The Fleet Admiral glanced at her for a second, then lifted his gaze to John. "Are you sure about that son? Do you think you can succeed on a mission like this?"

And John's reply was simple. "Sir. Yes sir."

Harper nodded approvingly, then turned to face Sparatus again. "Just point his last known location on the map, Sparatus. If he's alive, the Master Chief will get him out."

From across the table, Sparatus looked at the Spartan with large eyes. He clicked his mandibles, then said, "Why the hell not. Master Chief, I will send you and Commander Shepard everything we know about the situation on Menae. If you can get Victus out of that mess, you will find that a grateful Primarch can get a lot done for you."

Shepard stood up from the table. "If he's out there, we'll find him."

She turned around and was about to leave when she heard Harper say, "There is another matter I would like to handle. Two, actually."

Careful to keep her expression devoid of any emotions, Shepard turned back to the other representatives. "Alright?"

"First, I'm not going to send you off on a VIP retrieval mission like that without some proper equipment," the Fleet Admiral said. "I'll have Kintarō send you a list of our inventory. If you see anything you need, or something you think you might need, don't hesitate. Take it."

Jane narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "That's very generous of you, Fleet Admiral."

Almost too generous, in fact. What was the catch?

"And speaking of generosity, the matter I wanted to discuss pertains to the quarian people," Harper continued, his tone growing hard and cold. "The UEG is not going to beat on dead horses; we won't cast judgment on old conflicts like the Krogan Rebellions and the Quarian-Geth war, but we will continue pursuing closer diplomatic relations with the quarians."

Sparatus made a noise with his mandibles that Jane came to associate with irritation. "It is not the UEG's place to judge our history, just like it is not ours to judge yours. I fail to see how this is relevant."

"It is relevant because those closer relations could eventually evolve in migration treaties, or even the quarians settling down on a planet within our territory," Harper sharply replied. "We would not want a repeat of the Ekuna incident, where quarian settlers were told to leave or face orbital bombardments."

Evidently that went a stretch too far, as Sparatus furiously put down his tea to give his retort. "That is in no way – "

But Harper held up his hand, as if urging the turian to wait. "As I said, Councilor, the UEG has no interest in meddling with or casting judgment on Council history. We do, however, realize that closer ties between the quarians and our own people benefits both our species. For the sake of full transparency, I believe the Council had the right to know, and the responsibility to accept that."

Shepard could see that Sparatus was not at all convinced, but he miraculously refrained from commenting.

Valern, never one to believe in miracles, immediately opened his mouth. "Agree. If these closer ties take place in UEG space, the Council has no reason to cast judgment. I do wonder if, with their engineering know-how and reputation, the quarians might not acquire classified UEG technology, such as the Slipspace drives, or even functioning energy shields."

The Fleet Admiral merely shrugged in response. "I don't know. Even if my superiors decided to share certain technological secrets with the quarians, they barely number more than fifteen million, and their fleet is barely operable. Be honest, Councillor. Who should the more paranoid leaders of the UEG fear more? A galactic superpower like the turians, salarians or asari, or the ramshackle fleet of the quarians?"

Sparatus snorted, but it looked like his fury had evaporated almost instantly at that last remark. "Well, yes, I see your point," he admitted. "Of course the idea of the Hierarchy, or the Salarian Union acquiring functioning Slipspace technology is a frightening idea to your people. Very well."

Ah, the power of a little flattery at the right time. For a veteran UNSC officer, Harper sure knew how to handle politicians. No wonder Lord Hood chose him to lead this sector.

"It was the quarian people who found and returned the Master Chief to humanity," Shepard said before Valern could press on about technology acquisition. "We've been to the Migrant Fleet several times the past months. They're good people, Fleet Admiral. And they look after their friends. If you treat them right, they'll be loyal to a fault."

Harper gave her a brisk nod. "I will keep your opinion in mind. Commander Shepard, Master Chief, I wish you the best of luck in your mission."

"We'll depart ss soon as we can, Fleet Admiral," said Jane. She eyed Valern and Sparatus for a second. It was strange, but without Tevos, the presence of the Citadel Council felt oddly weak. Maybe it was because Udina wasn't here.

She thought back to Earth. To David risking life and limb to keep her safe.

Yeah. That's probably it.

John joined her. Together, they walked out of the conference room and began heading back to the Normandy.

Humans, salarians and turians standing together. She never thought she'd see the day. Why had it taken so long? Why did it take the arrival of the Reapers on their literal doorstep for the other species to realize that they had to set aside their differences?

This conference had been history in the making. That was the first real step of her vision of a galaxy united. So why didn't it feel like a victory?

"That went much better than expected," Shepard said upon approaching the docking tube that led back to the Normandy. "What do you make of it?"

"They were…agreeable," replied John.

"Sparatus got over his denial awfully quick. Did you know he was the one who was the most eager to dismiss the Reapers? And now he's the first to see reason."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

Which was a hell of a lot more polite than Shepard would have put it. Still, seeing the ever-proud and confident Sparatus driven to such desperation had put a serious damper on her bottled-up frustrations. He'd failed to listen to the warnings and now, his people were dying by the millions. Only someone like Morinth would take satisfaction in having been right.

"At least we've got the UNSC backing us up," Shepard continued with a heavy sigh.

"Once we've found Victus, the Hierarchy as well."

If. If they found Victus. If the Reapers hadn't overwhelmed his position with thousands of Husks. If they hadn't blasted his base to bits from orbit. If Palaven hadn't already fallen in the meantime."I love that boundless optimism of yours."

When the two of them made it back to the Normandy, Joker informed them that the UNSC was already ferrying in supplies with that trademark efficiency of theirs. A swarm of automated, heavy-duty supply transports delivered a nonstop stream of weapons, equipment and ammunition. Even with all the available hands helping out, it was too much for the Frigate's skeleton crew to handle.

"Alright Vega, what do we got?" Shepard asked the Lieutenant the moment she entered the cargo deck.

"Dios mio Commander, they've got a lot of crap," Vega groaned out as he hefted a heavy-looking container aside. "Whew. Where'd I put that list?"

"The United Nations Space Command provided us a clear supply manifest in advance," EDI chimed in. "I shall forward it to your private terminal."

"Thanks, EDI," replied Shepard. "What's the status of our Covenant weapons?"

"Uhm…the alien guns? I've got them secured in a locker," said James, uncertainty evident in his tone.

"Concerns?"

James quickly nodded. "With all due respect to the previous quartermaster, these things seem way unstable. They've been glued to the inside of our Drive Core for weeks. Who's to say they won't explode in a big ball of plasma the moment we pull the trigger?"

A fair point, all things considering. The Covenant's reputation was spooky enough; nobody needed the myth of volatile alien weapons chewing at their morale. "We'll put them to the test before hitting Menae. Get Cortez and gather those weapons."

"Yes Commander."

A quick peek at the supply manifest revealed that Harper had not skimmed on the budget. He'd delivered enough infantry weapons to arm two complete platoons as well as a complementary heavy weapons platoon. That included General Purpose Machine Guns, shoulder-launched missile launchers and enough different kinds of explosives to blow up the Destiny Ascension. Twice.

The UNSC's approach to infantry weapons was fascinating. Apart from the normal long-distance sniper rifles, they also had so-called battle rifles that somehow fired an even larger projectile than their already oversized assault rifle munition. They had grenade launchers, mortar drones and recoilless anti-material rifles that could probably snipe a Frigate from orbit.

"Flamethrowers? Am I reading this right?" Ashley asked.

And also incendiary weapons. A whole spectrum of incendiary weapons and munitions. "Don't forget the UNSC's been operating without rules and customs of war for years now. If it seems extreme to us, it's probably already failed against the Covenant."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Ashley replied with a toothy grin. "After Earth, I think it's about time we look at…alternative tactics."

Vega cocked an eyebrow and glanced down at a large crate near his feet marked 'FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE'. "I uh…I've used Incendiary applications before. I think we'll be fine."

The Commander nodded, satisfied that her crew wouldn't be having any trouble working with UNSC equipment. The last thing she needed was one of her squadmates hesitating at a crucial moment.

Her watch beeped, and she looked down at it quickly. One hour until the mission briefing. Liara wanted to speak to her beforehand. It was better to invite her to the War Room ahead of the others. Their window of opportunity for hitting Menae was small enough as it was.

Passing by the two young Marines at the security checkpoint, Shepard mentally reviewed the command process for the upcoming mission. Menea Command was a system of command posts and fortified bunkers, connected via trenches. It would be under heavy Reaper assault, meaning any attempt at an aerial insertion would be tantamount to suicide. They'd have to land on the outermost edge of the AO and approach on foot. The mission being a VIP extraction in an active warzone meant the entire squad had to serve as a maneuvering element.

Excluding the two Spartans, of course, since exploiting their firepower and own maneuverability demanded they fought independent of the main force.

A pincer maneuver, then. The main attack would come from the south, John and Three from the west. Penetrate the Reaper forces, link up at the CP and get Victus. It was their best shot to finish the mission before the Reapers blew them all to bits.

Liara looked up from the central holotable when Shepard entered, and smiled. "Shepard."

"Liara."

Liara quickly stepped up towards the Commander and wrapped her arms around her waist in a sudden hug. "I didn't have the chance to do this before. It's been entirely too long, Shepard. I am so sorry about Earth."

The sudden display of affection was surprising, but far from unwelcome. Shepard felt a smile tugging at her lips, and she held Liara for a couple of seconds before gently breaking away again. "Yeah. Wish the circumstances were better, though. What happened to you out there, Liara? How did you end up with the Alliance? I thought you were hunting the Shadow Broker?"

Liara smiled sadly. "I was, until a certain somebody appeared on Illium, bringing the problems of the Forerunners with them. When the Master Builder followed and attacked Illium, I was sort of...swept along in their company."

"…a certain somebody," Shepard replied, raising an eyebrow. She could only think of one person who fit with the context. "So you've met Three before?"

"Indeed." Liara's deep blue eyes quickly darted from the entrance to the consoles of the dark, upper level of the War Room. "Although I wouldn't say I've 'met' him. He seems less like a person and more like a…well…"

"He's got the personality of a power tool, yeah. Did he hurt you?"

"No, nothing like that," Liara quickly replied. "I mean, he was heavy-handed in getting us out of there in one piece, but then again, Nos Astra had turned into a warzone by then."

Shepard nodded, struggling to dismiss the vacant stare of a decapitated fanatic. "That's a first. Why'd they even come to Illium in the first place?"

"Do you remember why I was after the Shadow Broker in the first place?"

"The Broker took one of your friends. You wanted to get him back."

"Feron," said Liara. She leant against the holotable and looked away for a moment. "I do not know how he did it, but number Three got to the Shadow Broker first. He freed Feron and saved his life."

"Beg pardon?" Shepard replied. A pair like Three and Millennia stopping to rescue a prisoner – an alien at that – was almost ridiculous.

Liara laughed nervously. "I know, it might sound strange. I could not believe my own eyes when Feron stepped into my office, bruised but very much alive, and happier than I had seen in months."

With Three's MO, the Broker's body would either be found smeared across the nearest wall in eighteen different pieces, or never found at all. "So you fled Illium together, you, Feron and Three? What happened then?"

Liara told her. After pulling her and Feron from Illium, Three disappeared on them. With Nos Astra in ruins and the Shadow Broker dead, Feron had argued that they were in over their heads, and that they had best cast their fate with a government they could trust to prepare for the return of the Reapers. Since that ruled out basically everybody, Liara'd decided that the Alliance was their best chance.

"That is when Admiral Hackett attached me to the research team on Eden Prime," Liara finished.

"Right into another hornet's nest," sighed Shepard.

"Indeed. And now the Reapers are here, in force." Liara shuddered. "Palaven…do you think there's a chance that…maybe…?"

"Garrus?"

Liara nodded.

"I don't know," Shepard replied with a shrug. "I try not to think about that too much. But if he is down there, he'll be in the thick of it. Wouldn't be the first time the galaxy decided to unite us with a hail of gunfire."

A troubled expression settled on Liara's face. "Even with the UNSC's help, I can't see how we could possibly retake Palaven. How can the Hierarchy keep fighting without their homeworld?"

"That's not up to us," Shepard quickly replied. "Our mission is simply to locate and extract the Primarch for the war summit. After that, it's out of our hands. Don't give up yet, Liara. There is enough firepower in the galaxy to get Palaven back into turian hands. We've just got to point it the right way."

Liara didn't seem fully convinced by her words, but that was alright. Actions spoke louder than words when it came to these things. Besides; the Commander didn't have much time left. She still had to put the plans together and the rest of the crew would be arriving within half an hour for their orders.

As Shepard put the plan through its final motions, the rest of the ground team gathered within the War Room. The two Spartans clad in their nigh-impervious armor, Vega and Ashley in their standard Alliance hardsuits and Javik wearing his Prothean armor. Joining them were Cortez, Liara and Johnson, who had put on what looked like a modified set of ODST armor.

Odd. Jane didn't know that Johnson used to be a part of the infamous 'Helljumpers'.

Once everybody was accounted for, Shepard loaded up the last satellite images from the CP and had EDI upload the plan of attack.

Then, she turned to face her team and took a deep breath. "We're dealing with a heavy Reaper assault on Menae, a vital location for the Turian Hierarchy to hold. Every location the Reapers capture on Menae denies the turian fleets a place to refuel and repair. Our mission is to locate and extract Primarch Victus to ensure the Hierarchy's leadership remains intact and with us during the war. To do this, we are going to launch a raid on Victus' last known location; Menae Command."

The holographic map morphed to display a three-dimensional model of the Command Post; a series of fortified bases forming a defensive perimeter around the central structure. Each base was connected via a series of trenches and underground tunnels, making for an AOR of roughly twenty square kilometers.

Cortez whistled. "Base looks cluttered with fighter repairs. Where are we going to land?"

"We circle around, hitting the compound from the West, ," Shepard said, pointing at the Western approach of the base. "We'll split the squad in three different strike teams. Alpha Team will be Spartan-003 and Spartan-117; you two will jump in here and punch through the enemy lines, double-time it to the CP and serve as force protection until Bravo Team arrives. That'll be me, Liara, James, Ashley, Javik and Johnson. We're going to serve as the main assault force and clear out the Southern approach."

"Air support?" Ashley said. "Who even owns the skies?"

"Unknown," replied Shepard. "Assume the worst; the Reapers arrived in force. We'll be inserting from the Pelican; it can take a beating and dish out just as well. Cortez, you'll be standing by in the Shuttle for when we find the Primarch. We want the Reapers to focus their fire on the Pelican. Our air element will be Charlie team. Joining you will be a detachment of Salarian stealth drones for targeting and intelligence and UNSC mortar UAV's for fire support. Cortana, I want you to coordinate with Lieutenant Cortez the entire time. Once you're both in the air, every second counts."

"Copy that, Commander," Cortez said, not a hint of fear on his face.

With the force deployment taken care of, the team went through the tactical aspects of the terrain next, followed by a series of what-if's, discussing every possible angle and scenario for the mission. Everybody knew that, if they didn't win today, the turians might not last long enough to stay relevant.

Palaven had to hold. Whatever the cost.

-(++)-


Trebia System

Approaching Menae

Strapped within the troop bay of the Pelican Gunship, the Master Chief stared at his HUD in a mixture of familiarity and cold anger. He had called up a schematic of the Trebia System and the location of the present fleets, both Reaper as turian, with tiny icons representing Sovereign-Class vessels as well as the smaller Reaper Destroyers.

The tactical situation was a mess. Reaper troop transports had a clean shot at Palaven, capital ships were exploiting their orbital superiority to the fullest, destroying city after city.

Palaven was on fire. A single, fiery blotch at the center of the planet alone could have been an entire continent, holding millions of turians. It was nothing he hadn't seen before and that bothered him greatly. Aliens or not, these were living, breathing people. Civilians, with mothers and fathers and children. They had done nothing to deserve this.

He had never understood the point of genocide, even taking into account all the reasons individuals had made up in the past. What drove the Reapers to do what they did?

In the end, it probably didn't matter. The Reapers utterly relentless and utterly merciless. To survive them, the collective races of the galaxy had to be willing to match those strengths and exceed had to be harder than their foe. More resolved than their foe.

They had to be better on every front.

"Ten seconds until drop zone Alpha," Cortana's voice echoed through the troop bay. "Alpha Team, get ready."

As one, the two Spartans unbuckled their seats and stepped towards the cargo door. The barren, grey surface of Menae stretched out below them as the Pelican lurched through the sky, Reaper Oculi in hot pursuit.

The Master Chief mentally counted down to zero, then flashed the signal to Three to follow him in. Together, the two of them leapt out of the open dropship and landed heavily on Menae's desolate landscape, skidding to a sudden halt against a series of outcropping rocks.

They got into contact the second they landed. A swarm of Husks sprinted towards them, their guttural growls alerting the Chief that there was, in fact, an atmosphere on this rock.

The two Spartans put their backs against each other and opened fire. The 7,62 armor-piercing rounds made short work of the processed humans. Methodically, the Chief put down nine of the monstrosities, then spun left and put three bullets through the bulging head of a Cannibal.

When Three and him were done, nineteen Husks lay dead. Hundreds more were ready to take their place, scampering up the hills or charging the compound. Scattered throughout their horde were more than thirty of the processed batarians, as well as a dozen reworked turians.

The Pelican gunship soared overhead. Within seconds, it would have reached dropzone South and unload Bravo team. They had to move fast.

Mass accelerator fire lanced through the darkened sky as the two Spartans rushed towards the enemy's lines. The Master Chief barely felt their impacts however and his upgraded shields easily shrugged off the smaller caliber weapons. Husks rushed him, but they moved like they were stuck in mud, and he easily scrubbed the lot of them without ever breaking stride.

"Push left," he ordered, and Three flashed a green acknowledgement light. The younger Spartan switched to his shotgun and triggered his wrist-mounted blade. A Marauder rushed him, firing on full auto as it did, but the Spartan easily side-stepped the barrage of gunfire and leveled his shotgun. A second later, his boots descended upon the shredded remains of the Marauder's upper torso.

John sprinted up the nearest hill and activated his active camo. He fired his assault rifle until his magazine ran dry, then switched to his shotgun as well. He could see the turian defenders trying their best to stem the tide, but they were vastly outnumbered. The Husks were literally kicking at the gates. If the turians ever had any explosives, now would have been the time to use them.

Time for some crowd control.

His shotgun kicked against his shoulder and two Cannibals dropped, their torsos forcibly separated from their waists. To the augmented reflexes of the Spartan, the enemy forces were simply too slow to be effective. He was a blur as he moved, gunning down four Husks and a Marauder as it wildly attempted to acquire a target.

He pivoted, lashing out with his own wrist-mounted blade. The serrated steel coated in plasma neatly sliced through the necks of the two Husks that had attempted to jump his back. They dropped like puppets with their strings cut.

When the Master Chief focused his attention on the turian defenders again, he noticed something odd. Bue lances of what appeared to be plasma fire scythed through the screaming Husks from the right flank. According to his tactical map, Shepard's team had yet to reach the compound.

John frowned. It wasn't likely that the turians had acquired plasma weapons. Something was off here.

He patched into the footage of the salarian spy drones and redirected one to the right flank.

"Eyes on the CP. Initiate contact?" Three whispered across a private comm channel.

"Hold," replied the Chief. The drone came into range, but it didn't reveal anything. When he switched to heat vision, however, it revealed six new contacts ducking back and forth between a series of metal barricades, a hundred meters to the South. Those movements were fluid, graceful and awfully familiar.

He switched back to normal optics and zoomed Elites clad in menacing, jet-black armor had materialized on the flank of the Reaper infantry, duel-wielding plasma rifles. They were deadly precise and very effective. Within seconds of hitting the Husks, they had whittled them down to half their original numbers. The remainder of the Reaper troops began to focus their fire on this new threat, but the Elites backed away again and activated their cloaks, becoming little more than dark shadows on an already blackened moon. The Reaper infantry was not even able to give pursuit.

Interesting. The Elites had formed a truce with the turians? Were these the ones who had ravaged the quarian Flotilla, or did they belong to one of the halfjawed Shipmaster's groups?

"Commander, be advised, there are Elite strike teams present on the compound," the Chief spoke into his comm.

"Elites?" Shepard's voice came through a second later. "What are they doing?"

"Containing the Reaper forces."

"Good. Make contact, we'll need their help."

No hesitation there.

For a brief moment, John wondered if the Commander knew the full risks of what she was doing. Would she have accepted batarian help, if it ever came to that? "Roger. Three, there are friendly Elites on our right flank. Do not engage."

No response.

"Three, acknowledge."

It took the other Spartan five full seconds before he finally replied with the green acknowledgement light.

That might prove to be an issue in the future.

The Master Chief reloaded his weapons and re-engaged his cloak. As far as he was aware, none of the Reapers forces had a way to make use of the 'tactical cloaks' often used in the Citadel Theatre. Still, better not risk any blue-on-blue.

With the spy drone aiding him, John tracked the group of Elites as they moved along the outer perimeter of the compound. Suddenly, they began to pick up speed, forcing him to forego a more stealthier approach and run after them.

Their group double-timed it to the South-Western approach of the compound, where what looked like a barrage of flaming debris struck Menae's surface, not fifty meters away from the compound. At first the Chief thought it was some sort of kinetic bombardment, but when his motion sensor suddenly lit up with hostile contacts, that theory went out the airlock.

Somehow, the Reapers had pulled the same trick as the Gravemind had; they could drop their forces from orbiting ships all over the AOR without having to concern themselves with casualties or tactical positioning. Like that, they dropped in whole squads of converted turians. The SOB's were equipped with kinetic barriers and automatic weapons and moved with a sort of tactical purpose that belied their grotesque nature.

But the Elites were on to them before they could even push out of their drop zones. They hosed the Reaper infantry with precision plasma fire, quickly fanning out across the rocky grounds to cover a larger area. The Marauders attempted to coordinate their forces, but their kinetic barriers proved to be useless to the superheated plasma bolts. Direct hits blew off their limbs, blew through their torsos or outright vaporized their craniums.

The Master Chief decloaked, shoulder his shotgun and fired three quick shots, putting down two Cannibals and a wounded Husk. The nearest Elite immediately took aim at him, but the alien held his fire upon seeing just who had crept up on their flank.

"Demon," it growled, its voice sounding pleasantly surprised. "The Vakarian said you would come. Find him, on that side of this installation."

'That side' appeared to be the Northern side of the perimeter. Cortana immediately placed down a NAV marker.

But the Chief wasn't going to head out just yet."What are the Elites doing on this moon?" He asked.

The Elite seemed to hesitate before replying, "We are here for your peace, Demon. Find the Vakarian. We will hold this sector."

Vakarian. Vakarian.

So Garrus survived!

"Fascinating," said Cortana. "I'm detecting multiple comm channels on a variation of the old Covenant battle net. They're Elites alright. Pinging their network…I've got three separate squads on corners surrounding the perimeter and one roughly a kilometer to the North."

"Any clue who their Commander is?" John asked as he headed back towards the main gate in the West.

"Not yet. Be advised, I'm picking up hostile contacts on an intercept course with the CP. No IFF tags, slow movers. They're coming in from the aerospace to the West."

"Trouble," muttered John.

"Perceptive. Let's give them a warm welcome, shall we?"

John fed another handful of shells into his shotgun. "Aerospace. Enemy air support?"

"Very likely. The Reapers have proven to be exceptional at cloning or converting organic lifeforms into synthetic war machines. And since there are large flying animals on a handful of worlds in the Citadel Theatre, like the Harvesters."

Huskified Harvesters. That was the absolute last thing he needed. "Any suggestions?"

"Maybe try shooting them? That always seems to work. I'd rather not risk the Pelican until we know their capabilities."

The Spartan cocked his shotgun in response. "We'll call that plan A."

"What's plan B?"

"We'll cross that line when we get there."

-(++)-


Southern approach

The Biotic sphere impacted in the center of the Reaper formation and blossomed into a whirling, red-tinted Singularity field that pulled in the swarm of Husks.

Behind her visor, Shepard smirked. She saw Liara move to lob a Warp bolt into the shifting field of gravitic energy and easily beat her to the punch. The resulting explosion tore the cluster of Husks to absolute shreds, coating the rocks with grayish viscera and body parts.

A Marauder shifted to open fire and Shepard dodged out of the way in a wash of Biotics, reappearing two meters to the right. She hefted a Plasma Rifle with her right hand and fired off a shot. The COPPERHEAD made the alien rifle feel no heavier than a handgun.

The lethal bolt took the Marauder's head clean off and it slumped to the ground.

"Vega, suppressing fire!" She yelled. "Johnson, Javik, push for the gate! Liara,crowd control!"

James slammed into cover behind a blood-coated metal barricade, rose to one knee and began to lay down a thunderous field of fire that forced the approaching group of Cannibals back into cover. Liara shifted her focus to the right flank and threw a pulsing energy sphere that erupted into a Singularity field.

But there were always more. Another trio of those turian Husks sprinted to cover. Vega whittled down their shields and put several holes through their torsos, but the bastards were tough. Reaper ground troops were all but immune to pain and injury and could keep going where regular infantry units would have collapsed due to shock and trauma.

Of course, Shepard had her own way to bring plenty of shock.

"Johnson, put an eighty in their midst!" She yelled, before darting from her cover and sprinting closer for the gates. The Reapers had launched a massive infantry attack on the Southern position of the compound and the turians were barely holding on. The beleaguered troops were unable to bring out enough fire to hold the Husks off. They'd fall within minutes.

Shepard pulled out a second Plasma Rifle and opened fire. The targeting software in her helmet seamlessly integrated with whatever machinery the Covenant weapon had, and her armor made subtle adjustments to her firing stance. The lethal blasts tore into the rear of the exposed Reaper troops and more than two-third of them turned to face her.

"There we go," she muttered, before kicking off and Biotically launching herself amidst the swarm of Husks. Her boot, shrouded with violently shifting mass effect fields, connected with the jaw of a Marauder and sheared half its head off. She landed, shifted her balance and lashed out at a nearby cannibal with two swift kicks that pulped its face and shattered its neck. A Husk threw itself at her, but it was far too slow. Shepard stepped back, then struck the monster with an open-palm strike that launched its disintegrating body through the air.

Another two Husks leapt at her before the first one had even dropped. Shepard slapped the first aside with a Throw with enough power to tear the little bastard in half, then repositioned when the second attempted to grapple her.

The COPPERHEAD was on a completely new level when compared to her old suit. She moved faster, hit harder and was more agile than ever before. She shifted her weight to her left leg, pivoted and swept the Husk aside with a roundhouse kick that could have broken every bone in the body of a krogan. A quick application of boot to cranium ensured the Husk would stay down, just in case.

A Cannibal made a run for the crumpled body of a Marauder. Jane thrust her left hand forward and a Biotic battering ram struck the bastard, sending its broken body hurling across the battle-scarred landscape.

Total time elapsed: five seconds. Not bad at all.

A hundred meters away, Shepard heard a loud boom, followed by a rain of interspaced chunks of what had once been Reaper infantry. Those 81mm mortars were not large, but they were damn effective against infantry. Everything within twenty meters of the impact side would be in pieces or lying in a pool of cybernetic parts and organs.

"Commander Shepard?" One of the turians on the gate yelled down. "The General said you were coming! Come on through!"

A couple of moments later, a section of the slanted wall pulled back, allowing Shepard to take her team deeper into the turian compound.

She paused to let Vega and Liara overtake her, then craned her head up to look at Palaven. Such devastation…would the Reapers keep it up until the entire world was destroyed, like the Covenant did?

Was Garrus alright? His family? Hell, was he even still alive?

"Goddess, Palaven…" Liara breathed. "I can't believe it."

The homeworld of the strongest Citadel race and the Reapers had taken it just like that. What would it take to liberate Palaven? Earth? All the other planets the Reapers had taken?

Jane didn't know. She swore that she would see the Reapers burn for what they had done.

Things weren't much better inside the compound. The Reapers had blanketed the entire turian area of responsibility with drop pods. It was inevitable that some would end up inside the compound.

But the turians were holding.

Shepard led her team through a network of trenches, tunnels and outposts, stopping occasionally to lend a hand whenever a drop pod landed too close for comfort. She spotted a pair of black-clad turians tackle a Marauder to the ground and, with deadly precision, cut through its spinal cord with a pair of wicked-looking omni-daggers.

She also spotted a dark pit that contained fourteen body-bags, stained with blue blood.

"Commander?" Cortana's voice came through COPPERHEAD's comm. "Alpha Team has linked up with turian forces at the Western approach. They are holding off enemy reinforcements. General Corinthus is waiting for you. And guess what?"

There was something about Cortana's voice, a mixture of excitement and glee, that was too obvious to ignore. "I hear Garrus Vakarian is in the AO!"

Jane felt her heart leap from her chest all the way to her throat. "Garrus? Here!" She exclaimed, not bothering to hide her elation. "Are you sure?"

"Unless the Elites are talking about a different Vakarian."

"Come on," Shepard called out to her team. "Cortana says we've got an old friend out there and he needs our help! Pick up the pace!"

They sprinted through the underground hallway and emerged into the center of a large, open area surrounded by defensive structures and walls. The ground there was littered with discarded supplies, heat sinks and bodies. Not all of them belonged to the Reaper forces.

Shepard buried her grief and her fury and reined in her desire to call out for Garrus. It didn't take her long to spot the turian in charge; he stood under a metal canopy, studying a holographic map while issuing orders to the other soldiers. Clad in red-lined armor, he managed to make himself audible even above the constant gunfire and Reaper screeching.

"Tell 'Taham to direct more forces, we need those supplies!" He turned to face a second soldier. "What's the sitrep on those fighters? Can they take off or not? We're dead to those Harvesters without them!"

The turians soldiers saluted him and immediately ran off to fulfill their orders.

"General Corinthus?" Shepard said, approaching the little command post.

The turian officer spotted her from the corner of his eye and turned to face her. His eyes widened when he recognized her, then narrowed as he glanced at her team. "Commander Shepard. We were told to expect you, but…truth be told, I didn't think you'd actually make it here."

Jane approached the General as he extended his arm to her. She circled his arm with her own in the traditional turian greeting for comrades in arms. "Then you know about our objective?"

"Primarch Victus…" the General growled. "I only just heard about that particular line of succession. What a mess…"

Shepard raised her brows at that. Her HUD helpfully informed her that the good General didn't hold much warm feelings regarding the new Primarch. "A mess?"

Corinthus firmly shook his head. "Its nothing important. The Reapers hit us hard. We lost two hundred men alone in the last day. The only reason we're still holding on to these bases is thanks to the Ascetic, Usze'Taham and his…soldiers. I don't know where they came from Commander, but I've got twenty-six Special Operations Elites running around these bases."

Elites. John had warned her about them. She'd seen what skilled Elites could do before and didn't see any downsides to having twenty-six of those things fighting by her side. "They tend to do that. General, I'm looking for Primarch Victus. Do you know where he is?"

Corinthus took a deep breath. He didn't exhale again. "There's a communications array to the North of this base. Reapers took it down yesterday. We've been trying to reach Victus near the airfield, but without that tower, we can't get to him. Victus probably doesn't even know he's next in line, and he constantly stays on the move.'"

"Where is that tower?" Shepard asked.

"A kilometer to the North. 'Taham went there a couple of hours ago, but he hasn't come back yet. If you get that communications array running again, I can coordinate with Victus. You'll make both of our nissions that much easier."

Shepard quickly opened a private link to Spartan-003. "Spartan, there's an airfield in the AOR. I need you to get to it and help defend it against the Reapers. Don't engage any of the Elites!"

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Jane to notice, before Three replied. "Copy."

No time to dwell on that. "We're heading for that tower, General."

Corinthus gave her a grateful nod. "Thank you, Commander."

The tide of hostiles was even thicker on the way to the communications tower than it was getting to the base itself. The moon was crawling with husks, and Shepard started to see more and more of those Marauder things. It didn't take her long to notice that the other husks acted differently with the reworked turians around. They were more aggressive, more mobile, and it slowed their progress considerably.

Jane downed one Marauder with a few Plasma bolts, then ripped another in half with her Biotics. Next to her, Johnson and Vega put down an impressive screen of covering fire, allowing Javik and Ashley to move up to the left flank.

"Come on you ugly little…" .the Sergeant Major growled as he moved down one Cannibal after another. "Come get some."

"Hostile down!" Ashley yelled as she gunned down a pair of Husks. "Liara, behind that rock!"

Liara reacted quickly. She threw a Singularity field down in the middle of the battlefield, dragging in several Husks and Cannibals, but not the three Marauders prowling the area. They concentrated their fire and forced the asari to duck for cover.

That was when Javik all but vaunted over Liara's cover, surrounded himself with a wall of dark energy and contemptuously flung a ball of green fire into the Singularity. The entire field exploded and shredded everything in a ten meter radius.

Shepard quickly put the Marauders down with single shots, then issued her squad forwards.

"At our current pace, we'll reach the comm tower in ten minutes," Cortana said through a private channel. "John'll get there a minute or two later; he's holding off enemy air support."

"Alone?"

"Any closer to the local turians and they'd get caught in the crossfire. Be advised, UAV's have located the Elite unit at the tower. It's the Ascetic, and he's got a few turian buddies helping him out."

Elites and turians working together on Palaven's moon. How many ground troops did the Reapers have to throw at them, anyway? A thousand husks per Reaper, two-hundred Reapers in the system? That would be tens of thousands of the bastards in those designated troop transports. How many friendly forces were left of Menae?

Shepard led her squad through the broken outer perimeter of the base, then down into another trench. Another Reaper touched down in the distance. Tracer fire came up from the ground, a desperate attempt to hold the juggernaut off. In return, the Reaper began sweeping the ground with its main cannon.

Cortana projected an image against her HUD. It was a tactical overlay of the comm tower, with green icons representing turians and blue icons as the Elites. They had taken up defensive positions above and to the west of the tower, holding out against a veritable wave of hostiles.

Before soon, the Commander made visual contact and the sights and noise of the battle washed over her. What looked like a mere twenty soldiers held off an entire army of husks. She counted at least twelve turians riflemen – and one very familiar-looking turian in the center –as well as four of those black-clad Elites, almost impossible to make out if not for the flashes of their weapons.

A fifth one, clad in bright red armor, was manning some sort of a tripod weapon attached to a pulsing crate. The mounted weapon spat out a steady stream of plasma bolts that kept the army of husks at bay. He was, however, only sporadically firing it. The other four Elites had to plug up the holes left in his field of fire and there were a lot of Husks.

"We're coming up on the turian line," Shepard called out. "Cortana, patch into their radio. Tell them to watch for friendlies."

The Normandy ground team caught the Reaper forces in the rear, effectively pinning them against the turian infantry. The myriad of Cannibals and Marauders tried to shift their focus to this new threat in their back, but in doing so they left themselves open to a furious turian counter-attack. By the time Shepard had reached the tower itself, the Reaper forces had been reduced to a series of smoldering, dismembered corpses.

But the Reapers had plenty of bodies to offer. Even as the Commander rushed towards the familiar-looking turian at the center of the comm tower, more of the damned things dropped down from the sky in fiery blazes. They had little time.

"Garrus!" Shepard yelled. She grabbed the blue-clad turian by his shoulder and depolarized her visor.

Garrus' head snapped up at her. His eyes widened with recognition and he spread his mandibles in a very human grin. "Shepard! Spirits, Shepard, is that really you?"

A burst of fire ghosted past his head and the Commander swiftly positioned herself in-between him and the shooter. "Squad, defensive formation! Dig in and hold!" She ordered. "Garrus, can you get this tower up and running?"

"Tower?"H e repeated, blinking slowly. He looked tired and ragged. He must have been through hell."Ah, the tower! Time to break out the drone!" He replied, before kicking open a military crate and retrieving some sort of four-legged machine that bristled with mechanical equipment. "We've been locked out of our comms for too damn long…"

"You get that thing online, we'll give you cover," Shepard said, turning back to the battlefield. The enemy reinforcements seemed endless; her squadmates burned through one magazine after another.

"Running low, one mag left!" Johnson barked.

"More hostiles to the left! Shift fire!" James called out.

Shepard rose from her cover and gunned down an approaching Husk. On her tactical map, she saw John's IFF rapidly approaching their location. "Watch your flanks, they're trying to break through!"

The Commander spun around to unleash a Biotic Shockwave on a mob of rushing Cannibals. As she did, she saw the shimmering outlines of something large and broad, positioning itself atop a nearby rock formation.

The Spartan raised his rifle and began mowing down Marauders and Cannibals with machinelike precision.

Between the Elites, the turian infantry, Shepard's team and the Master Chief, the Reaper forces didn't stand a chance. By the time Garrus managed to finish his repairs, the battlefield was littered with broken, burning corpses. Their munition supplies were getting low, but the radio tower was up, and the transmissions began almost immediately.

"Nice shooting, Chief!" Johnson said.

Javik glanced at the Spartan, then looked away. "The primitive knows how to handle a gun."

"Chief?" Garrus distractedly said. He slammed the hatch of the comm tower shut and wobbled for a moment, unsteady on his feet. "I know a Chief myself. I think he's a cool guy. He kills Reapers and doesn't…errr… afraid of anything!"

Jane narrowed her eyes, watching the turian carefully. She didn't need the COPPERHEAD to know that he was completely exhausted. How long had he been fighting on this moon? Why wasn't he on Palaven?

The next second however, Garrus caught himself and he firmly shook his head. "Spirits…men, spread out and search for stragglers! Tend to the wounded, then search for more thermal clips. There's going to be more."

As his troops snapped off quick salutes and rushed to their tasks, Garrus turned towards Shepard and her the grimmest turian equivalent of a smile she'd seen in a long time. "Shepard. I can't believe you're here. And with some old the old gang, too."

"Garrus," said Liara. "I thought you were on Palaven when the Reapers attacked!"

Garrus looked at the sky for a moment. His mandibles twitched. "This moon is too important to lose. If it falls, Palaven will follow. The Reapers have been pounding us for days."

"I know, we spoke to General Corinthus," said Shepard. "I'm sorry about Palaven, Garrus. I wish I'd brought more. The Reapers hit Earth, too."

Garrus closed his eyes for a second. "Damn, then it's worse than I thought. So why are you here then? Chief's too rusty with a sniper for your liking?"

"Not really. We're here to get the new Primarch off Menae. The brass is putting together a War Summit. They're finally uniting, Garrus. The UNSC and the Salarians are already in the fight."

Behind her, the red-clad Elite turned their way as well. He headed straight towards John, and Shepard tensed up, sensing trouble. She saw Johnson head their way, too.

"Spartan," said the crimson-clad alien. "Sergeant Major. Your fire burns still."

"Taham," John calmly replied.

"Damn if ain't a small galaxy," growled Johnson. "Haven't seen you since Spark turned red."

Johnson grabbed the Elite by his arm and shook it, hard. In turn, 'Taham crossed his free arm in front of his chest and inclined his head. "You cheat death yet again. Your survival might well be divine intervention."

Shepard stared at the three of them in shock. How was it possible that John kept encountering old comrades in the most desolate places? Luck could only bring him so far. This was more than just luck.

"Great, now I don't have to introduce you guys," remarked Garrus. "Usze and his platoon have been wreaking havoc on the Reapers here." He paused, glanced at the tower again, then added, "I've got bad news, Shepard. Primarch Fedorian was killed and the lines of succession are a complete mess. We don't know who – "

"Garrus," interrupted Jane. "Councillor Sparatus got word today. It's General Victus. He's the new Primarch."

"Victus!" Garrus gasped. "He's next in line?"

"You know him?"

Something massive exploded in the distance and everybody instinctively ducked down.

"Not here," snapped Garrus. "We need to move. Victus is at the airport and the Reapers have been knocking on the gates since we left."

"Then let us make haste," said 'Taham. "The Machines will not wait for us."

Shepard readied her guns. "Let's hope Three has some good news for us, then. Everybody move out!"

-(++)-


Menae

700 meters from the airfield

Across the desolate surface of Menae, the Reapers shoved their forces into the grinder. Hordes of ghoulish freaks flung themselves against the turian defenses with reckless abandon, only to get shredded by fixed machinegun positions and small arms fire. Groaning amalgamations of fallen corpses shambled from behind cover and strafed the defenders with hyper-accelerated shards of metal. Their ramshackle corpses were bloated with the putrid, cybernetic-stuffed flesh of their fallen kin.

Alien defenders, ragged and bloodied and lamed, struggled to hold the tide. Their wounded, dead and dying remained where they had fallen. There could be no respite. There could be no rest. Their own comrades stared at them from across the no-man's land, twisted and gnarled and bidding them to join. Join.

The airfield was surrounded on all sides. The Reapers had blanketed the entire AOR with drop-pods, drowning the turian defenders with the processed carcasses of their former victims. Soon, they'd all be the same. Soon, they'd all rot.

Spartan-003 rose to his feet and gripped his rifle. It was time to go to work.

He slid down the rocky hill, leveling his MA5. He had a good field of fire, and he fired a burst into a cluster of Cannibals that stayed behind to feast on their fallen. They had come here in force, and the Spartan saw them spread out all across the battlefield.

Alan started making his way towards the airfield, moving back and forth to stretch the enemy out, blasting anything that moved. Humanoid Husks disintegrated before the onslaught, splashing blackish blood and bodyparts everywhere. Mass accelerator fire came in from all directions, but their fire was far from accurate.

It took the Spartan a minute or two to cross the remaining distance to the airfield. Reaper troops had spread out in a loose semi-circle around the AOR, fanning out across the several kilometers that the turians had reinforced for their aircraft. Every dark rock, every nook and cranny held more hostiles, and he was forced to engage them all. Strange aircraft soared overhead, spherical drones that seemed decidedly hostile against the defending forces on the ground. He assumed that they were responsible for all the crashed turian aircraft in the vicinity.

Alan shot a glance at his shields and continued fighting. Before long, the bodies of the fallen Reaper troops began to accumulate, and he came within sight of the outer perimeter.

Against all odds, the turians were holding. As 003 switched to his shotgun for close quarters work, he approached a side of the perimeter where the aliens were actively pushing back against the incoming hordes. They had divided a large section of the perimeter into some sort of open Forward Operating Base, with metal scaffolding, deep trenches and large juts of solid steel that served as makeshift cover.

A large group of Marauders had dug in roughly fifty meters from the base. It looked like they were trying to cover the advance of an even larger group of Cannibals. The reworked batarians were utterly ruthless in their charge, but they had run into stiff resistance.

A helmetless turian appeared in a flicker of Biotic light, effortlessly passing through the rocks and other cover to strike at the one of the Cannibals. The freak attempted to swipe her out of the way with a savage blow, but the turian flickered out of existence, reappeared behind it and then took the top of its head clean off with a lightning-fast right hook.

What remained of the Cannibal's lower head began emitting a sickly greenish smoke as the body slumped to the ground.

A Biotic turian? He hadn't heard of those before. Were they part of the Blackwatch, the infamous turian Special Forces department?

Whichever unit it belonged to, the turianwasn't the only one. Alan spotted up to three of those Biotics appearing and disappearing all over the area. Their abilities somehow allowed them to phase in and out of the battlefield at will, while the myriad of concealment options allowed them to recover their shields if the Marauder suppressing fire hit them.

They were outnumbered, but they still did a solid job holding off the enemy infantry. They reminded him of a pack of wolves, tearing their enemies apart with a series of coordinated and brutal close-quarters moves.

Of course, wolves didn't have sharpened, poisonous, corrosive wrist-blades strapped to their gauntlets, so maybe that comparison was unfair.

Tough as the turians were, they still had to contend with a well entrenched line of hostile infantry. That was where Alan came in.

The Spartan raised his shotgun to his shoulder and vaulted over the burning wreck of a downed aircraft. As he picked his targets, he felt the familiar rush of enhanced chemicals and synthetic hormones rush through his blood. Time slowed to a crawl and cold, analytical reason took over.

Éleven o'clock, two Marauders, ten meters. One o'clock, one Marauder, seventeen meters. Twelve o'clock, lined up, twenty to thirty meters, five Marauders in cover. Single shotgun blasts for the first three, switch to rifle and close quarters for the last.

Execute.

The shotgun boomed. High-powered pellets ripped through the first Marauder's shields and blew out large chunks of armor and dead flesh. His boots hit the ground and his shotgun discharged a second time, blowing apart the head of the second Marauder. He took two quick steps, pumped a new round into the chamber and fired again. The third Marauder fell.

His targets spun to face him, but they might as well not have bothered. Accurate burst of fire brought down their shields. They faltered and he closed in for the kill. He stabbed the first Marauder through its left eye with his wrist-blade, sidestepped its body as it started to fall and lunged for the next one.

It was over in a matter of seconds. The Spartan killed one with a pair of skull-crushing jabs, beheaded another with a fell swipe of his blade and collapsed the chest cavity of a third with a snap-kick. The fourth had the time to bring its rifle to bear, but all it got for its trouble was a cobra-quick uppercut that shattered its spine.

Alan kept his rifle raised as the bodies dropped, eagerly watching if anything stirred.

Nothing did. The coast was clear – for now.

Something twinged in his chest, painful and irregular. They'd patched him up, but he had to be cautious. He might still fall apart on the inside if he overexerted himself.

One of the Biotics appeared a few meters to his left and approached him. It was a slender-looking thing, but tall. Tall and, for an alien, not at all unsightly. Her plates were as black as her armor, making her two-toned facial paint almost look fluorescent against her face. Silver rings looped through the edges of her mandibles, strangely enough.

"Not bad," she said with a chirping voice. She extended her hand in introduction, while the rest of her unit took up good firing positions in a three-sixty. "Tatilia Laevicus, acting Kabalim of the Eleventh Creche, Sixteenth Cabal unit."

Three stared at her gauntlet. In the last month alone, aliens had offered him more courtesy than a lifetime of humans had. He did not like that. "…you're not the Primarch."

The turian blinked, then pulled her arm back. "No. If you're looking for the Primarch, you landed in the wrong place, Spartan," she said with a cautious tone. "Fedorian – "

"Is dead. Victus is up."

A dark look crossed her features, if only for a moment. "Damnit," she hissed. "What do you want with Victus?"

Him? Nothing in particular. The mission, however, demanded his safe exfiltration. "Councillor Sparatus called for a War Summit. He needs a Primarch to represent the turians in the war."

"Movement in my sector," one of the turians on overwatch called out.

The Kabalim hesitated, clearly distrustful of the situation. Smart woman. She made her decision fast however. "Follow us to the airfield. You'll find Victus there."

One by one, the other Cabals peeled off and fell in behind their leader. One with overwatch on the left, one on the right and the last covered their six. They must have been fighting for days at an end with barely any sleep, food or water, yet they still managed to maintain discipline in the face of overwhelming odds.

Not a conventional unit then, these Cabals.

Still amazed at how smoothly the exchange went, Alan began following the Cabals back to the airfield.

As far as airfields went, the one Victus commanded had been pushed to its limits. The airstrips were cluttered with debris, damaged aircraft and makeshift cover. Improvised barracks and medical posts were the order of the day. Plenty of troops still standing though, even if they didn't have any vehicles to help them.

Alan spotted at least three different heaps of dead husks, as well as several trenches with body-bags in them. Too many haggard-looking turians sported wet, fresh wounds oozing blue blood.

Several AA installations had been turned to molten slag. Scattered supply crates littered the place, together with other debris.

The Hierarchy had been pounded hard, yet the Spartan couldn't shake the feeling he was walking straight into a hornet's nest. To him, the aliens of the Citadel Council were just another Covenant in waiting. As long as these aliens existed, humanity would never know peace. He was certain that would never change.

But even so…what he saw here, wasn't right. What the Reapers were trying to do wasn't. Right. Nobody deserved this.

Closer to the center of the base, the infrastructure and bunkers appeared more intact. They definitely functioned better. The Cabal unit escorting the Spartan received more than one strange look as they approached, some of them puzzled, others downright hostile. The Biotics, for their part, had donned their helmets again, which was especially strange considering they hadn't been wearing those during the actual fighting.

Interservice rivalry or something darker?

"General Victus is just ahead. Red-lined armor, can't miss him," Tatilia muttered to him. "If you do anything to hurt him, I'll kill you where you stand. Are we clear on that?"

Alan glanced at the turian. Her gray eyes were locked on his face. "Crystal," he said, somewhat bemused. Few people ever dared to threaten a Spartan directly to their face.

There wasn't time for anything else, as the red-striped General glanced in their direction, did a double-take upon seeing the Spartan in the midst of the Cabals and straightened himself. His facial markings gave his face an almost skull-like appearance. "Laevicus. Report."

Tatilia snapped off a crip salute. "Enemy forces pacified, General. We've linked up with a UNSC Spartan in the area. He's got important intel."

"Is that so?" Victus said.. "Good job. Grab ten, stock up on ammo and supplies, Kabalin."

"Sir."

With that, the four Cabal soldiers took their leave, leaving Alan alone with an alien General. Said General regarded him fiercely, and demanded, "What's a Spartan doing on Menae?"

"General Corinthus said to find you here. Sparatus needs the Primarch to represent the Hierarchy in the coming War Summit," replied Three.

"Then what are you doing here? Fedorian is at Base Complex seventeen."

"Primarch Fedorian is KIA."

General Victus stiffened. "Fedorian is dead?"

"Shot down as he tried to evacuate. We – " A sudden burst of activity over the comm network cut him off before he could say anything else, and he held out a hand to the General. Switching off his external audio, he turned away and said. "Go ahead, Commander."

"Three, we've got the radio tower online and we're coming up on the airfield. Are you in position?"

"Affirmative. I've linked up with local Hierarchy forces and located the Primarch."

There was a burst of gunfire from the other end of the radio. "Nice work, Spartan. I need you to help Victus hold the airfield until we arrive."

"Your ETA?"

"ETA ten minutes. Hold tight."

"If you're here…" Victus haltingly began. "Does that mean…am I…?"

"According to Councilor Sparatus, you are the new Primarch."

His words struck Victus like bullets. He flinched, then shook his head in disbelief. "All of the other successors, are they all dead too? Spirits, they were…" His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings like a drowning man searching for something, anything to hold on to. Finally, his gaze settled on his burning homeworld in the sky. "I'm the Primarch of Palaven?"

Spartan-003 averted his gaze, ill at ease. He didn't know what disturbed him more; the intensity of the turian's shock and grief, or the fact that it made him look human. "Commander Shepard will be here soon," he quietly replied. "She'll have the details."

With the communications tower in the area up and running, turian radio traffic spiked again. Requests came through by the dozens; for reinforcements, air support or artillery strikes Others for supplies, ammunition or evacuations…or simply to warn a base that they were about to be attacked. Targeted by heavy weapons. Overrun.

The Spartan helped out where he could, mostly by providing fire support at key locations under Reaper attack. By the time the turians had repelled the husk harassing their flanks, Shepard and her squad had arrived.

An Elite accompanied them.

Three kept his distance. He, along with hundreds of his peers, had been recruited into Beta Company by ONI as a vengeful orphan from a fallen colony, not older than five. Excessive hostility and brutality against aliens was the norm – it was to be expected, especially in his line of work. The other twelve pulled from Beta to become Operators were no different. Even with Millennia's stabilizing presence within his mind, the lack of antipsychotic and bipolar-integration drugs meant that he couldn't be depended on near humans, let alone aliens.

He simply couldn't trust himself to act rationally if he stood next to the damned things.

The Master Chief didn't have that problem. He stood next to the red-clad SpecOp Elite, quietly exchanging small-talk with the turian called 'Garrus' and the old Marine, Sergeant Major Johnson. The Chief had often been spotted during the Battle of Earth in the presence of three other Elites. One of them, the Arbiter, had reportedly accompanied him during the entirety of the conflict.

Didn't that bother him?

"I've spent my entire life in the military," Victus argued against Shepard. "I'm no diplomat – I hate diplomats - I'm a soldier. War's in my blood. It has been since the Unification War. I don't do by the book."

"That's precisely why we need you, Primarch. War is the name of the game and you – you are an artist when it comes to strategies. You've seen the Reapers. The turians don't need a diplomat to help them – they need a soldier. You're the perfect man for the job."

Such a way with words. Commander Shepard was dangerously adept at manipulating people into doing what she wanted them to do.

Victus muttered something to himself. "I suppose you're right…"

There. Right as her words swayed him into doubting his previous argument, Shepard reached out, touched his shoulder and leant towards him. "We're not abandoning Menae, Primarch. Help's coming. We've had to abandon Earth, but there's still hope for Palaven."

The Primarch glared at her, hard and long. Something happened there that the Spartan couldn't see, something subtle and unspoken. "Give me a moment to say goodbye to my men. I – "

Suddenly, Cortana's voice rang out over the comm. "Alert! Enemy air units incoming!"

Seconds later, the telltale mechanical screech heralded the approach of several huge, flying creatures, every single one of them the size of a Pelican gunship, These mutated beasts looked like someone had fused a dragon with kilometers of black, pulsing wires, while their heads had been replaced by a collection of glowing probes, lights and guns.

"Incoming, get to cover!" Shepard yelled. She conjured a blazing wall of reddish blue light, shielding herself and the Primarch against a blast of red light.

Others weren't as fortunate; as 117 and the Elite burst into motion, the other flying Reapers soared overhead and blasted everything in their path in a classic strafing run. Turians cried out in fear and agony as they were consumed by blasts of red light. It happened so fast that most of them barely had any tine to react, but with his augmented senses, Alan saw everything with perfect clarity.

It wasn't a strafing run at all: it was an air insertion. The flying husks dropped off ground forces, and they weren't the normal fodder.

No, these things were massive, hulking monstrosities, the size of a small house and covered in thick plates of gray armor. One of their arms was massively bloated,and shaped like a giant claw, or pincer. They looked like someone had taken the body of the late Shadow Broker, stuffed to its teeth with cybernetic implants and augmented with bolted-on heavy armor.

That made the small, dangling turian head attached to its frame look even more out of place.

There was no time to think about the implications of the unholy fusion. Spartan-003 felt his adrenaline spike as the amalgamations charged, and the battle was joined.

-(++)-


John grunted as he rolled out of the charging monstrosity's way, firing off a number of 7,62 mm rounds into its back. The rounds punched through its thick plates and tore deep into its back, but it didn't even register the wounds. It whirled around savagely, then reached out for the Spartan with both arms, as if trying to smash him with its bulk.

Instead, the Chief dove between its legs, twisted around and put another salvo into its legs, hoping to at least cripple the brute. It howled with fury and spun around with alarming speed, its oversized claw sweeping through the air, but the Chief jumped up and twisted sideways, his rifle barking loudly as he emptied his clip into the husk's side.

Again, it shrugged off the wound and continued to press the Spartan. This thing was something else.

"Take out that Brute!" One of the turian soldiers in the vicinity shouted.

An apt name, John thought. There were more of these things around him, but until he identified some sort of weak spot, there was no way he could eliminate them all in time. He'd have to trust his teammates to cover his back.

The 'Brute' had no means of ranged combat, which meant all of its attacks were driven by augmented strength and sheer weight. It looked like a forced combination between a krogan and a turian. Those species were wildly incompatible with each other. That meant a massive amount of cybernetics and implants to keep it from rejecting itself and falling apart. It was very likely this thing didn't feel anything but mindless rage.

Enraged foes were often the easiest to dispatch.

The Brute charged him again and the Master Chief swiftly pulled out his shotgun. He backpedaled and put two shells into the Brute's head. The high-velocity pellets raked its head and blasted open its skull, revealing dark brain matter entwined with cables and tech.

Mid-charge, the massive husk turned its claw to protect its head and slammed into the steel barricade an inch to John's left. The Spartan didn't waste a second and leapt at the Brute. He engaged his wrist-blade and stabbed the thing twice in its exposed spinal cord, before pulling himself up and over the beast's shoulders and vaulting off its front.

Time slowed to a crawl as the Master Chief flipped head over heels, his visor a mere forty centimeters away from the Brute's mutilated head –

- and his wrist-blade carved through the beast's neck, neatly separating its head from its shoulders.

John nimbly rolled back to his feet and whirled on the Brute again, ready for round two, but that wasn't necessary. The creature whipped its oversized arm around in its dying spasms, then its bulk collapsed and went still.

Next, the Chief moved to assist the other combatants who'd moved to engage the remaining Brutes. He saw Three blurring out of the way of another charging amalgamation, impossibly fast. His wrist-blade blurred through the air carved open the Brute's abdomen from its groin to its chin, tearing apart the armored plating and revealing snaking bundles of pale guts.

Enraged, the Brute charged him again, but Three stood his ground as the beast's claw descended upon him. Golden will-o-wisps crackled to life as his shields shrugged off the glancing blow, before the Spartan rammed his fist into the Brute's guts and immediately disengaged.

A second later, the Brute unleashed a guttural roar before exploding from the inside out, showering the area with shards of metal, pieces of electronics and a cloud of gore. A hollowed-out shell, loosely attached to its singed pincer-like arm, slumped to the ground .

Usze 'Taham, meanwhile, activated his energy sword and held his ground. The Brute roared and swung its armin a hammer-blow. The Elite's sword was a blur as he sidestepped, pivoted and lunged.

The momentum of the Brute's separated arm carried it forwards, while the main body of the massive husk fell to the ground in two cauterized halves.

That left just Shepard and an entire squad to back her up against the last Brute. It spread its arms, stood tall and uttered a bone-chilling roar, but the Commander wasn't intimidated.

Maybe that was because of the Pelican gunship that swept down and unleashed a long burst of 70mm depleted Uranium slugs. Whatever materials allowed the Brute to shrug off small-arms mass accelerator rounds were obviously not prepared for the massive ordnance Cortana directed its way. The resulting kill as as spectacular as it was gross; the massive Husk just burst in a cloud of gray gore, completely obliterated by the gunship's chin-mounted autocannon.

The turians on the ground raised their weapons in the air and uttered a loud war cry. It must have been a sight for sore eyes.

"Charlie Team to ground element, your ride is here," Cortana said over the comm.

Moments later, the Kodiak shuttle piloted by Lieutenant Cortez descended as well. "Standing by for evac!"

As the ground teams prepared themselves for the pick-up, John saw Garrus approach the Commander. "Shepard. We've got a slight problem."

Jane turned her head towards a Reaper in the distance. "Slight?"

"In a manner of speaking. We've got the Eleventh Creche of the Cabals in this base. Their primary order is keeping Victus safe – they're not going to just let him go."

"Cabals?" Shepard asked.

"A branch of Special Forces, our only Biotics," explained Garrus. "Trained in infiltration and shock tactics, as well as piloting and assassinations. They're...somewhat of an oddball among our people. They're close, only to each other. A bit like the Chief."

"Can we take them with us? We could use the extra hands. We're running on a skeleton crew as it is."

Her comment took Garrus by surprise. "We're bringing other turians now? I didn't know we were quite there yet."

"If you can keep your head in the game. They seem flexible enough."

Garrus coughed. "Right, right. Giving me a handicap, are we?"

The two were silent for a while. Cortez picked up the Primarch and the other members of the ground. Then…

"Look at that thing, Shepard. And they want my opinion on how to stop it? Failed C-Sec officer, vigilante? And I'm their expert advisor?"

A light static buzzed over John's Neural Interface as unrecognizable, low frequency vocalizations coming from Garrus. The translator had trouble adapting to sub-vocal communications.

"Garrus…"

"Think you can win this thing, Shepard?"

Jane shrugged. "Maybe. We've picked up some tough allies along the way, Garrus. Come aboard, I'll introduce you."

Chuckling, Garrus replied, "Yeah, I saw you'd picked up another Chief at the Spartan store. But it's not the ground game I'm worried about. On the other hand, I'm damn sure nobody else can do this. For whatever it's worth, I'm with you."

The Chief turned away, allowing Jane and Garrus a brief moment of privacy. He, along with Liara, Tali and Ashley Williams, had been part of Jane's crew from the start. But when Liara moved on and Ashley refused to come along, it was Garrus and Tali who had jumped at the call. From what he'd seen aboard the Normandy, there could be no Vakarian without Shepard.

He was glad to have the turian back. If there was anyone he'd trust on his six, it would be Garrus.

John took one last look around Menae. He saw Three, along with the turian Cabal unit, enter the Pelican. Shepard went with him, but stopped on the cargo door. "Chief, you coming?"

In the grand scheme of things, Palaven was much more important strategically than Earth. A larger economy, a more developed industry and an actual global army instead of a scattered resistance. It bothered him to think that way, but the Alliance's Earth would have to wait.

Wordlessly, the Spartan turned away from the turian's homeworld and stepped aboard the Pelican. One mission at a time, he reasoned. And today, they'd won a critical battle.

-(++)-


AN: I swear I'm trying not to make a habit of double Author's Note, but some of them only work after the chapter itself to make sense, or even to prevent spoilers.

Menae had to be kept in line with the canon timeline, more or less. Everything else is fair game from here on out. Anyway, see you all next time. Be good people!