There was never a quiet moment in Torfan. You could always hear gunfire, explosions, and other signs of warfare in the distance. It was not a place for introspection but for struggle and death. As Lilith kept running, her heavy, adrenaline-fueled breathing drowned out the combat in the distance. While she wasn't supposed to be in immediate danger, she could never tell: Torfan was treacherous like that, and it had claimed many lives from people who let their guard down for even a second. Her destination drew near. She summoned her remaining strength and kept running, not remembering how long she had been going at it. Stopping was not an option. Her mission was the priority.
After the Skylian Blitz, when batarian-backed pirates attacked Elysium, the Alliance needed a show of force to demonstrate to the galaxy their military might and how messing with them would not come without consequences. Torfan was a small moon known as a regular base of operations for slavers, pirates, and other criminals funded by the Batarian Hegemony, the perfect target for some payback. Or so they thought.
No one expected the campaign to be as brutal as it was. While the raids they carried out were ruthless and violent, the batarians had adopted a conservative strategy: their game plan was all about attrition. They were turtled up in deep underground strongholds, using landmines and other traps to make life for the Alliance as miserable as possible. Even when their offensive was successful, it came at a cost: thousands of marines had already lost their lives in this operation. Every inch they gained came at a price, and the morale around the troops suggested that the price was too high. There did not seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel.
Until that day. It took all her strength, but Lillith arrived at her destination: the forward camp where her unit was stationed. It would have been easier had the batarians not disabled their Mako, but she learned that nothing came easy in war. Their mission was to neutralize an enemy stronghold in a valuable strategical position. Alliance intel suggested it was a point for resupplying and moving undetected below ground. It was also where they harbored jammers used to make communications between Alliance units impossible. Under the leadership of captain John Shepard, they had the unenviable task of disarming a minefield and clearing a way for infantry to seize the outpost.
It was a difficult task. The unit of about one hundred soldiers grew smaller each day, and you could feel it around camp. People were sent on runs from which they did not return. The captain, a keen military mind, viewed his soldiers as assets rather than human beings, using them for any tactical advantage he could gain, throwing them at the outpost like lambs to the slaughter. Sometimes the batarians grew bold and raided them in the night, keeping everyone on their toes and making a good night's rest impossible. The assault she had just taken part in was the third in a month after the first two ended in too many dead marines to count. The captain called it a success. In his words, the attacks had "soften them up."
She arrived at the gates. Her comrades greeted her and offered to take her to the doctor, but she promptly refused. She needed to report to the captain as soon as possible. Her affected walk told a story of a day filled with death and sacrifice. As expected, it hadn't been easy. Yet here she was. The soldiers took her to the camp's main tent. While the mood around the base was its low, heavy self, she could feel something different in the air: after all these months, Lilith had never expected to sense a speck of hope on the moon's atmosphere. She didn't think a place like this could allow it.
She was called inside by an imposing figure. In front of her stood the leader of her unit. Stoic as ever, heavy armor favored his average build, still burly enough to be intimidating. He was the poster for the typical military man, with a buzzcut and well-kept facial hair even during all the chaos. His deep blue eyes didn't betray a hint of emotion, although, unlike most dead-behind-the-eyes looks around camp, this was not a welcome gift from Torfan, but the look he had since she had started to serve under him. He was studying a holographic battle map (as he often did) when she came in. After the usual saluting, he spoke:
"Give me good news, Bates."
All the months she had served in his unit didn't help to shake the uneasiness she felt while talking to him. Maybe it was his perfect composure while everything around them went south or his unwavering confidence while sending countless soldiers to their deaths. While she did not resent him for it, nor was she envious of his demanding role as a unit leader, it was not easy facing a man who you know views your life as expendable. It was hard for a man with such a blasé disposition towards his subordinates' life to be popular among the soldiers, but he was a natural-born leader. Something in how he carried himself inspired them, one of the many reasons command handpicked him to oversee such a crucial task.
"We got them, sir. We breached the main entrance and cleared most of the way in."
"How many casualties?"
There was a pause.
"Too many to count, sir. I was sent by what's left of our squad to inform you of our progress."
"Good job, soldier." The captain looked up and down at Lilith - "I need everyone I can spare for the final push. Do you need medical assistance?"
Lilith took a deep breath. As her adrenaline slowly wore off, the pain in her leg became more prominent. The tiredness, both physical and psychological, threatened to overcome her. Blood soaked her dark grey armor, charred at places where the enemy fire had penetrated her shields. The prospect of medical care and an ever so brief respite from the frontlines was tempting, but she had to see it out until the end. Too many people had lost their lives that day for her to have a rest.
"It's mostly batarian blood, sir." - she said as the corner of her mouth tried to form a faint smirk - "While some of the enemy forces have surrendered, there are still -"
For the first time, Lilith noted something change in the captain's expression.
"Surrendered?"
"Yes, sir. That was also one of the reasons why I came as fast as I could."
"We'll gather the rest of the unit. Come on."
There were no easy travels in Torfan, but this one was mercifully uneventful. Lilith, Shepard, and what remained of the unit stationed at camp headed down the blasted steel door torn down by explosives a few hours prior. The casualties of previous missions littered the battlefield: disfigured corpses fed the ground where the soldiers stood, mutilated in the vilest ways. In some cases, the damage was so bad you could hardly work out if they were human or batarian. Explosives were a common source of the injuries: limbs torn off, burned, and scattered to the four winds. The somber mood was soured further by the violence on display.
No one said a word as they descended to the depths of the enemy bunker, taking in the destruction their comrades had wrought. While it was less grotesque, the signs of battle were by no means easier to digest. Lilith tried to remain composed as she walked through the halls where she feared for her life hours before. Fighting in such a confined space was hectic. She spent most of the fight praying she wouldn't accidentally hit one of her squadmates by mistake. Returning so soon after she saw so much death wasn't easy. Had it been worth it? It was not her place to question her superior's tactical prowess, but she couldn't help but wonder if this base was worth so many squandered lives. Even if it was, did it have to be taken like this, with soldiers thrown to the slaughter?
They marched through the corridors until they found the room where they were keeping the prisoners. Lilith could tell everyone was more agitated than usual. They moved faster, with a perk in their step, a determination that didn't come from rigorous boot camp but from painful experiences on the battlefield. They had bonded, even if silently, over their shared suffering. Seeing the labor of their victory, no matter how costly, made that silent connection stronger. The remaining unit members were inside, pointing their weapons at eight brown figures cornered against the wall lest they had any ideas about escaping. The scowls on their faces could not hide the shame of their defeat. Boxes and other containers full of the weapons and explosives responsible for causing them so much grief furnished the room serving as a makeshift warehouse. The Alliance believed several tunnels connected this outpost with other bases, used for transporting weapons and other provisions to different fronts. With this stronghold taken, the enemy lost access to supplies and weapons vital for their defensive strategy.
For a man responsible for a win in a complicated mission, Shepard remained as neutral as ever. He was the first into the room, calling the attention of one of the soldiers:
"What's your report?" - he said
"We neutralized all hostile forces in this area and deactivated the jammers, sir. We should be able to contact the brass for support now. We found several tunnel entrances underground, as our intel suggested. They were using this section as a resupplying hub. I don't think the batarians realize they've lost control of it, sir."
"What about them?" - asked Shepard, pointing to the batarian prisoners.
"They threw down their weapons and surrendered when he reached the warehouse, sir."
"How many?"
"About eight, sir. The rest died fighting. They tried to retreat to the tunnels, but we cut them off. They had no choice."
"Have they said anything?"
"No, sir. We checked them for explosives. They're clean."
"Thank you, soldier. I'll take it from here."
The captain holstered his assault rifle and motioned his unit to come in. Batarians weren't known to surrender easily, especially to humans, whom the Hegemony had a known grudge. They clashed regarding expansion, and the Council took humanity's side, a deep wound that led the batarians to isolation and brutal attacks on civilians. Despite not fully trusting their intentions, Lilith was no Terra Firma voter. She did not quarrel with other species and supported good diplomatic relations with other races. The batarians were different. Fighting on Torfan against an enemy that prided itself on the evil they committed, seeing comrades die day after day while hope of victory faded; all of this had changed her. In previous missions, she did what they asked, guided by a sense of duty, staying true to her oath to protect and serve Humanity to the best of her abilities. But there was no honor in Torfan. No duty. Here, she fought for survival, to inflict pain on her enemies, not humanities'. While looking down at her rifle's sights, she didn't think about how she was bringing a brighter future to her peers, but about the pleasure felt when they died while she survived. As she looked at the scowls of the prisoners, she knew they felt the same.
"Which one of you is the highest ranking officer?"
"Go to hell, human!" - spat one of the batarians. The captain looked at the dissident prisoner and motioned one of the soldiers to bring him closer.
"You'll do. Tell me, what do the batarians do to people who surrender?"
"We kill them."
A yell followed his reply. The captain delivered a punch right to one of the batarian's eyes, making him stumble in pain. It put the soldiers in check. The ones who hadn't been pointing their weapons at the prisoners unholstered them and did so. Lilith was caught off guard by the captain's actions, but she followed her comrade's lead, keeping her sights on the injured batarian. Even unarmed and outnumbered, the batarians looked menacingly at their captors, almost daring them to strike.
"No, that's not all. I want details. I'll ask you again: what do the batarians do to the people who surrender?"
"Why don't you -" the batarian's reply was cut off by another swift punch to one of his eyes. The captain, beginning to lose his patience, held him by the collar, looking him up close.
"Careful, now. You've only got two left, and I'm not going to ask again."
Lilith was taken aback by this approach. She knew the captain had a mean streak, but only in a military context. Everyone in the unit had seen how the captain was willing to do what it took to complete a mission, but that just made him ruthless, not cruel. It was senseless torture. They knew what the batarians did, they had all been debriefed. What was he trying to achieve?
The batarian, blood gushing from two of his eyes, finally answered:
"Some we kill. Others are sent back to the Terminus Systems to be sold as slaves."
The captain threw him to the ground, putting his heavy armored boot in his chest, pressing it hard.
"And what do you do to those slaves?"
"We…we put control devices in their heads, so they stay docile. Brand them. Most are used for farming and mining work. Sometimes we burn them alive for fun and use the females as we please. That's what you get when you mess with the Batarian Hegemony!"
Despite struggling to breathe, Lilith denoted the defiance in his voice. He wasn't confessing but bragging. Even if she had known of this beforehand, her blood boiled as she heard him spout the indignities he and his kind inflicted on the helpless. It was one thing to read the reports, but hearing one of them admit these things so proudly made her angrier than she had ever been before. She could feel the tension in the air as her fellow soldiers held their weapons more tightly. The captain kicked the batarian in the side of the head, turning to the remaining captives against the wall:
"Do you know what humans do to the people who surrender? The Geneva Convention dictates that civilians and soldiers who lay down their arms are considered prisoners of war. They must be fed, treated if sick, and given proper beds. When the war is over, they're returned to their homes, except if they're suspected of committing any war crimes, in which case they're given a fair trial at a war tribunal."
The stoic, unreadable man she had been serving under for the last couple of months had disappeared. In front of her was someone very different, much more expressive. She saw the bad intentions behind his blue eyes, admiring his twisted performance. There was, as she had thought, no point to this. He was enjoying himself.
"That is what you can expect when you go to war against humans. Honor and respect."
The captain unholstered his pistol, eyeing it. It drew the attention of the rest of the soldiers, who kept their eyes on him with curious looks.
"Unfortunately for you, you're not fighting against humans."
Noise filled the room as the captain dispatched two shots to the head of the batarian still lying on the ground. There were barely audible gasps as the soldiers failed to mask their surprise. The remaining batarians shot raging looks at the captain, who once again turned to them:
"You're fighting against animals, just like you. And animals are a hell of a lot less merciful. Kill them."
She could not contain herself. As soon as the captain finished speaking, Lilith and the rest of her unit pulled the trigger. The seven batarians, trapped against the wall, had nowhere to escape. Loud gunfire and yelling from the captors and captives alike flooded the room. Blood painted the walls around them as the room went silent again.
Lilith had killed before, as was expected of her. She probably killed more than seven people just hours before taking that bunker. But that was combat. It was fighting for survival as the most primal instincts of kill or be killed take control of your body. What happened in that room was a massacre. Yet not one soldier questioned the order. As soon as those words left the captain's lips, they all complied without hesitation. You would be hard-pressed to find any hint of remorse, too. They had just killed seven prisoners, in direct contradiction with the Alliance's guidelines and everything it stood for, and you could make out the satisfied expressions on the soldier's faces. Some of them were laughing. Too much time fighting, and witnessing their peers' death made them resentful. And resentful men with guns had loose morals.
Lilith's heart threatened to burst out of her chest. Despite all this, she had pulled the trigger too. She became a soldier to represent the best of humanity, helping it shape a future for itself among the stars. Now, she was a war criminal. The batarians were monstrous in their methods, and she didn't pretend to kill them hadn't brought her a degree of satisfaction, but did this make them any better than them? How could she justify serving under someone that disregarded laws and due process in such a frivolous way? She had to say something.
"Sir, this… It's not right. They were unarmed."
She felt the entire room pierce her with their gaze. Were they judging her? As she briefly scanned the room, looking for signs of support, she found none. Shepard rapidly closed the distance between them, getting up close to her.
"Are you gonna do something about it, Bates?" - he said, his fierce expression fixed on her.
The question sounded more like a threat. Alliance regulations were clear: if a commanding officer gave you an illegal order, you were obligated to not carry it out and relieve them of command. But she had. They all had. She glanced at the room again, finding the piercing gaze of her comrades still upon her, and knew none of them would back her. She found herself trembling. Unable to look the captain in the eye, she let silence be her answer.
"That's what I thought." - he said, backing off. "If you have any complaints, take it to the major. Otherwise, you do as I say. Are we clear?"
He turned to one of the soldiers: "Contact Major Kyle, tell him outpost A is secured. Alright, everyone. There's still some cleanup left to do. We're going to enter the tunnels. Kill every hostile you encounter. I don't care if they surrender, this moon will be batarian-free after we're finished. Move out, people!"
Lillith followed the soldiers as they cleared the room. The last few minutes kept playing over and over in her head. She just had to push it to the back of her mind. Soul searching would have to come later. Right now, she had a mission to complete.
The captain was the last to leave. Looking at the batarian corpses, he couldn't help but feel satisfied. Victory, after all the struggles they had endured, all the sacrifices no one else was capable of making, was on its way. In addition, he felt a sense of accomplishment witnessing the lifeless bodies of his enemies. He was keeping an old promise to himself.
"This one's for Mindoir, you bastards." - he muttered to himself before leaving the room. It was a long time coming.